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+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: February, 2004  [EBook #5129]
+Posting Date: May 2, 2009
+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
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE PRODIGAL JUDGE BY VAUGHAN KESTER
+
+
+By Vaughan Kester
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I. THE BOY AT THE BARONY
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“I suppose you will buy in the property when it comes up for sale?” the
+latter was saying.
+
+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.
+
+“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.”
+
+“Who are the other creditors?” asked Bladen.
+
+“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.”
+
+“He lived entirely alone, saw no one, I understand,” said Bladen.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.”
+
+“That's business,” said Crenshaw, nodding.
+
+“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.”
+
+“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!”
+
+“And what became of the daughter who married Turberville?”
+
+“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!
+
+“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.”
+
+They were interrupted by a knock at the door.
+
+“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.
+
+The boy opened his mouth, but his courage failed him, and with his
+courage went the words he would have spoken.
+
+“Who is this?” asked Bladen.
+
+“I'll tell, you presently,” said Crenshaw. “Come, speak up, sonny, what
+do you want?”
+
+“Please, sir, I want this here old spo'tin' rifle,” said: the child.
+“Please, sir, I want to keep it,” he added.
+
+“Well, you run along on out of here with your old spo'tin' rifle!” said
+Crenshaw good-naturedly.
+
+“Please, sir, am I to keep it?”
+
+“Yes, I reckon you may keep it--least I've no objection.” Crenshaw
+glanced at Bladen.
+
+“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.
+
+“You want to know about him, sir? Well, that's Hannibal Wayne Hazard.”
+
+“Hannibal Wayne Hazard?” repeated Bladen.
+
+“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.”
+
+“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.”
+
+“It was four year ago come next Christmas,” said Crenshaw.
+
+“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.
+
+“He means the fo'teenth of December,” explained Mr. Crenshaw.
+
+“Not wishin' to dispute your word, Mr. John, I mean Christmas,” objected
+Yancy.
+
+“Oh, very well, he means Christmas then!” said Crenshaw.
+
+“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.”
+
+“Never mind the mule, Bob,” said Crenshaw.
+
+“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.
+
+“The extraordinary slowness of the mule is accepted without question,
+Mr. Yancy,” said Bladen.
+
+“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.”
+
+“What did the woman look like, Bob?” said Crenshaw.
+
+“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.”
+
+Mr. Crenshaw took up the narrative.
+
+“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!”
+
+“Well?” said Bladen.
+
+“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.”
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“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.”
+
+They passed from room to room securing doors and windows, and at last
+stepped out upon the back porch.
+
+“Hullo!” said Yancy, pointing.
+
+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.
+
+“Well, I declare to goodness!” said Crenshaw.
+
+“What are you going to do with him, Mr. John?”
+
+This question nettled Crenshaw.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“A woman ought to be boss in her own house,” said Crenshaw.
+
+“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.”
+
+“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.”
+
+Yancy rested a big knotted hand on the boy's shoulder.
+
+“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!”
+
+“Please, sir, where is Aunt Alsidia?” asked the child.
+
+Yancy balanced the rifle on his great palm and his eyes assumed a
+speculative cast.
+
+“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?”
+
+The child's blue eyes grew wide.
+
+“Like the guns off in the woods?” he asked, in a breathless whisper.
+
+“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.
+
+“Do it now, please,” the child cried, slipping off the bench.
+
+“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.”
+
+“Please, Uncle Bob, make it go bang!”
+
+“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.”
+
+There was a moment of delightful expectancy, and then--
+
+“Bang!” cried the child, and on the instant the rifle cracked. “Do it
+again! Please, Uncle Bob!” he cried, wild with delight.
+
+“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.”
+
+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.
+
+“Do you reckon if Uncle Bob was to let you, you could drive, sonny?”
+
+“Can she gallop?” asked the boy.
+
+Mr. Yancy gave him a hurt glance.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II. YANCY TELLS A MORAL TALE
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“There's money in the old place, Bob, at that figure,” Crenshaw told
+Yancy.
+
+“There are so,” agreed Yancy, who was thinking Crenshaw had lost no time
+in getting it out.
+
+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.
+
+“I mean there's money in the place fo' Ferris,” Crenshaw explained.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.”
+
+“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.”
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“Aren't you Mr. Yancy?” she asked.
+
+“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.
+
+“I am Mrs. Ferris, and I am very pleased to make your acquaintance.”
+
+“The same here,” murmured Yancy with winning civility.
+
+Mrs. Ferris' companion leaned forward, her face averted, and stroked her
+horse's neck with gloved hand.
+
+“This is my friend, Miss Betty Malroy.”
+
+“Glad to know you, ma'am,” said Yancy.
+
+Miss Malroy faced him, smiling. She, too, was very good to look upon,
+indeed she was quite radiant with youth and beauty.
+
+“We are just returning from Scratch Hill--I think that is what you call
+it?” said Mrs. Ferris.
+
+“So we do,” agreed Yancy.
+
+“And the dear little boy we met is your nephew, is he not, Mr. Yancy?”
+ It was Betty Malroy who spoke.
+
+“In a manner he is and in a manner he ain't,” explained Yancy, somewhat
+enigmatically.
+
+“There are quite a number of children at Scratch Hill?” suggested Mrs.
+Ferris.
+
+“Yes, ma'am, so there are; a body would naturally notice that.”
+
+“And no school--not a church even!” continued Mrs. Ferris in a grieved
+tone.
+
+“Never has been,” rejoined Yancy cheerfully. He seemed to champion the
+absence of churches and schools on the score of long usage.
+
+“But what do the people do when they want to go to church?” questioned
+Mrs. Ferris.
+
+“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.”
+
+“But that's ten miles from Scratch Hill, isn't it?”
+
+“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.
+
+“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.”
+
+“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.”
+
+“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.
+
+“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?”
+
+“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.”
+
+“Do you know the old deserted cabin by the big pine?--the Blount place?”
+ asked Mrs. Ferris.
+
+“Yes, ma'am, I know it.”
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“I reckon you-all can count on my nevvy,” he said.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+“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?”
+
+“When's this here school going to begin, anyhow?”
+
+“To-morrow at four o'clock, she said, Uncle Bob.”
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+“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.”
+
+“What's school like, Uncle Bob?” asked Hannibal, twisting and squirming
+under the big resolute hands of the man.
+
+“I can't just say what it's like.”
+
+“Why, didn't you ever go to school, Uncle Bob?”
+
+“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.”
+
+“On a Sunday, like this?”
+
+“No, the school I tackled was on a week-day.”
+
+“Was it hard?” asked Hannibal, who was beginning to cherish secret
+misgivings; for surely all this soap and water must have some sinister
+portent.
+
+“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.”
+
+“But what did you learn?” insisted the boy.
+
+“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.
+
+“What's a book. Uncle Bob?” he demanded.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+“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?”
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“Why did he call you a liar, Uncle Bob?” he demanded.
+
+“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.”
+
+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.
+
+“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.”'
+
+“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.
+
+“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!”
+
+Mr. Yancy's moral tale had reached its conclusion; it was not for him to
+boast unduly of his prowess.
+
+“Uncle Bob, you lift me up and show me them dints!” and Hannibal slipped
+from his seat.
+
+“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--”
+
+“Betty!” cried Mrs. Ferris indignantly.
+
+“Judith, the moral is as obvious as it is necessary.”
+
+Mrs. Ferris gave her a reproachful look and turned to the children.
+
+“You will all be here next Sunday, won't you?--and at the same hour?”
+ she said, rising.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+“It is my husband you wish to see? I am Mrs. Ferris.”
+
+“Then General Quintard is dead?” His tone was one of surprise.
+
+“His death occurred over a year ago, and my husband now owns the Barony;
+were you a friend of the general's?”
+
+“No, Madam; he was my father's friend, but I had hoped to meet him.” His
+manner was adroit and plausible.
+
+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.
+
+“Will you ride on with us to the Barony and meet my husband, Mr.--?” she
+paused.
+
+“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.
+
+“Betty, let me present Captain Murrell.”
+
+The captain bowed, giving her a glance of bold admiration.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.”
+
+Hannibal and Yancy watched them mount and ride away, then the boy said:
+
+“Uncle Bob, now them ladies have gone, won't you please show me them
+dints you made in the doorjamb?”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III. TROUBLE AT SCRATCH HILL
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+“You say your father was a friend of the old general's?” said Bladen.
+
+“Years ago, in the north--yes,” answered Murrell.
+
+“Odd, isn't it, the way he chose to spend the last years of his life,
+shut off like that and seeing no one?”
+
+Murrell regarded the lawyer in silence for a moment out of his deeply
+sunk eyes.
+
+“Too bad about the boy,” he said at length slowly.
+
+“How do you mean, Captain?” asked Bladen.
+
+“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?”
+
+“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.”
+
+“Has Yancy any legal claim on the boy?” inquired Murrell.
+
+“No, certainly not; the boy was merely left with Yancy because Crenshaw
+didn't know what else to do with him.”
+
+“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.”
+
+“As a matter of sentiment?”
+
+“As a matter of sentiment.”
+
+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.
+
+“Well?” said Murrell.
+
+“I'll have to think your proposition over,” said Bladen.
+
+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,
+
+“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.”
+
+“What was in the paper, Uncle Bob?” asked Hannibal.
+
+“Writin',” said Mr. Yancy, and smoked.
+
+“What did the writin' say, Uncle Bob?” insisted the boy.
+
+“It was private,” said Mr. Yancy, “very private.”
+
+“What's your answer?” demanded the stranger.
+
+“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.”
+
+“He said something about some one I was to carry back with me,” objected
+the man.
+
+“Who said that?” asked Mr. Yancy.
+
+“Bladen did.”
+
+“How's a body to know who yore talking about unless you name him?” said
+Yancy severely.
+
+“Well, what am I to tell him?”
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+“So you reckon it was that--” said Yancy, with a deep breath.
+
+“It's a blame outrage, Bob, fo' him to act like this!” said the merchant
+with heat.
+
+“When do you reckon he's going to send fo' him?” asked Yancy.
+
+“Whenever the notion strikes him.”
+
+“What about my having notions too?” inquired Yancy, flecked into
+passion, and bringing his fist down on the counter with a crash.
+
+“You surely ain't going to oppose him, Bob?”
+
+“Does he say when he's going to send fo' my nevvy?”
+
+“He says it will be soon.”
+
+“You take care of my mule, Mr. John,” said Yancy, and turned his back on
+his friend.
+
+“I reckon Bladen will have the law on his side, Bob!”
+
+“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.
+
+“He'll just naturally bust the face off the fellow Bladen sends!”
+ thought Crenshaw, staring after his friend.
+
+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.
+
+“They've took your nevvy, Bob!” he cried, in a high, thin voice.
+
+“Who's took him?” asked Yancy hoarsely. He paused and glanced from one
+to another of the little group.
+
+“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!”
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+“Uncle Bob--Uncle Bob--” he, cried.
+
+“Yes, it's Uncle Bob. You can light down, Nevvy. I reckon you've rid far
+enough,” said Yancy pleasantly.
+
+“Leggo them horses!” said Mr. Blount, recovering somewhat from the
+effect of Yancy's sudden appearance.
+
+“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!”
+
+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.
+
+“You'll sweat for this, Bob Yancy!” cried Blount, as he vainly sought to
+fend off the blows.
+
+“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!”
+
+Hannibal rode home through the pine woods in triumph on his Uncle Bob's
+mighty shoulders.
+
+“Did you get yo' ground-hog, Nevvy?” inquired Mr. Yancy presently when
+they had temporarily exhausted the excitement of Hannibal's capture and
+recovery.
+
+“It weren't a ground-hog, Uncle Bob--it were a skunk!”
+
+“Think of that!” murmured Mr. Yancy.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV. LAW AT BALAAM'S CROSS-ROADS
+
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+“I reckon you can, Charley Balaam, if you are friendly,” said Yancy.
+
+“I'm a family man, Bob, and I ask you candid, do you feel peevish?”
+
+“Not in particular,” and Yancy put aside his rifle.
+
+“I'm a-going to trust you, Bob,” said Balaam. And forsaking the shelter
+of the sweetgum he shuffled up the slope.
+
+“How are you, Charley?” asked Yancy, as they shook hands.
+
+“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.
+
+“Read it,” he said mildly. Balaam scratched his head.
+
+“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.”
+
+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.
+
+“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.”
+
+“Where you located at, Mr. Carrington?” asked Yancy. But Carrington was
+not given a chance to reply. Uncle Sammy saved him the trouble.
+
+“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?”
+
+“New Orleans,” prompted Carrington good naturedly.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“Who's been a-warrantin' Bob Yancy?” cried Uncle Sammy, with shrill
+interest.
+
+“Dave Blount has.”
+
+“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?”
+
+“Read hit,” said Balaam. “Why, sho'--can't you read plain writin', Uncle
+Sammy?” for the patriarch was showing signs of embarrassment.
+
+“If you gentlemen will let me--” said Carrington pleasantly. Instantly
+there came a relieved chorus from the three in one breath.
+
+“Why, sure!”
+
+“Would my spectacles help you any, Mr. Carrington?” asked Uncle Sammy
+officiously.
+
+“No, I guess not.”
+
+“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:
+
+“To the Sheriff of the County of Cumberland: Greetings.”
+
+“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,
+
+“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.
+
+           “De Lancy Balaam, Magistrate.
+
+“Fourth District, County of Cumberland, State of North Carolina. Done
+this twenty-fourth day of May, 1835.
+
+“P.S. Dear Bob: Dave Blount says he ain't able to chew his meat. I
+thought you'd be glad to know.”
+
+Smilingly Carrington folded the warrant and handed it to Yancy.
+
+“Well, what are you goin' to do about hit, Bob?” inquired Balaam.
+
+“Maybe I'd ought to go. I'd like to oblige the squire,” said Yancy.
+
+“When does this here co't set?” demanded Uncle Sammy.
+
+“Hit don't do much else since he's took with the lumbago,” answered
+Balaam somewhat obscurely.
+
+“How are the squire, Charley?” asked Yancy with grave concern.
+
+“Only just tolerable, Bob.”
+
+“What did he tell you to do?” and Yancy knit his brows.
+
+“Seems like he wanted me to find out what you'd do. He recommended I
+shouldn't use no violence.”
+
+“I wouldn't recommend you did, either,” assented Yancy, but without
+heat.
+
+“I'd get shut of this here law business, Bob,” advised Uncle Sammy.
+
+“Suppose I come to the Cross Roads this evening?”
+
+“That's agreeable,” said the deputy, who presently departed in company
+with Carrington.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“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.”
+
+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.
+
+“It'll be all right, Nevvy,” he said gently.
+
+“You wouldn't let 'em take me, would you, Uncle Bob?” asked the child in
+a fearful whisper.
+
+“Such an idea ain't entered my head. And this here warranting is just
+some of Dave Blount's cussedness.”
+
+“Uncle Bob, what'll they do to you?”
+
+“Well, I reckon the squire'll feel obliged to do one of two things.
+He'll either fine me or else he won't.”
+
+“What'll you do if he fines you?”
+
+“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.”
+
+“Wasn't that a good licking you gave him on the Ox Road, Uncle Bob?”
+ asked Hannibal.
+
+“It was pretty fair fo' a starter, but I'm capable of doing a better
+job,” responded Yancy.
+
+They overtook Uncle Sammy as he turned in at the squire's.
+
+“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.
+
+“But why did you fetch your gun, Uncle Sammy?” asked the magistrate,
+laughing.
+
+“Hit were to be on the safe side, Squire. Where air them Blounts?”
+
+“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.”
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“I only know what Bladen told me,” said Blount sullenly.
+
+“Well, I reckon Mr. Bladen ought to feel obliged to tell the truth,”
+ said the squire.
+
+“He done give me the order from the judge of the co't--I was to show it
+to Bob Yancy--”
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“Well, Mr. Blount, what did you do with this here order?” asked the
+squire.
+
+“I went with it to Scratch Hill,” said Blount.
+
+“And showed it to Bob Yancy?” asked the squire.
+
+“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--”
+
+“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.
+
+“I showed Yancy the order--”
+
+“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!”
+
+“Didn't he say nothing about this here order from the colt, Bob?”
+
+“There wa'n't much conversation, Squire. I invited my nevvy to light
+down, and then I snaked Dave Blount out over the wheel.”
+
+“Who struck the first blow?”
+
+“He did. He struck at me with his buggy whip.”
+
+“What you got to say to this, Mr. Blount?” asked the squire.
+
+“I say I showed him the order like I said,” answered Blount doggedly.
+Squire Balaam removed his spectacles and leaned back in his chair.
+
+“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.
+
+“Can a body drap a word here?” It was Uncle Sammy's thin voice that cut
+into the silence.
+
+“Certainly, Uncle Sammy. This here co't will always admire to listen to
+you.”
+
+“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.
+
+“The Fayetteville co't air a higher co't than this, Uncle Sammy,”
+ explained the squire indulgently.
+
+“I'm aweer of that,” snapped the patriarch. “I've seen hit's steeple.”
+
+“Air you finished, Uncle Sammy?” asked the squire deferentially.
+
+“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.”
+
+“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--”
+
+“And we don't know nothing in their favor,” Uncle Sammy interjected.
+
+“Dave's grandfather came here from Virginia about fifty years back and
+settled near Scratch Hill--”
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“He didn't--he just left,” said Uncle Sammy.
+
+“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.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V. THE ENCOUNTER
+
+
+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.
+
+“You are not going to lose your nephew, are you, Mr. Yancy?” she asked
+eagerly, when Yancy stood at her side.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“I hope you smacked him well and hard!” said the girl, whose mood was
+warlike.
+
+“I ain't got no cause to complain, thank you,” returned Mr. Yancy
+pleasantly.
+
+“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.”
+
+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.
+
+“Are you going away, ma'am?” he asked with concern.
+
+“Yes--to my home in west Tennessee,” and a cloud crossed her smooth
+brow.
+
+“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.
+
+“It's almost a thousand.”
+
+“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.”
+
+“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.
+
+“But ain't you ever coming back, Miss Betty?” asked Hannibal rather
+fearfully, smitten with the awesome sense of impermanence which dogs our
+footsteps.
+
+“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?”
+
+“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.”
+
+“But Uncle Bob says--” began Hannibal, who considered his Uncle Bob's
+remarks on this point worth quoting.
+
+“Never mind what yo' Uncle Bob said,” interrupted Yancy hastily.
+
+“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!”
+
+“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.”
+
+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:
+
+“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?”
+
+“That are a p'int,” agreed Yancy slowly. “Might I ask what parts you'd
+specially recommend?” lifting his grave eyes to hers.
+
+“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.
+
+“I like a little spo't now and then yes, ma'am, I do hunt some,” he
+admitted.
+
+“Miss Betty, Uncle Bob's the best shot we got! You had ought to see him
+shoot!” said Hannibal.
+
+“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.”
+
+“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!”
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“She sho'ly is a lady!” said Yancy, staring after her. “And we mustn't
+forget Memphis or Belle Plain, Nevvy.”
+
+Crenshaw and the squire approached.
+
+“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.”
+
+“I reckon his next move will be to send a posse of gun-toters up from
+Fayetteville,” said the squire.
+
+“That's just what he'll do,” agreed Crenshaw, and looked disturbed.
+
+“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!”
+
+“No, sir, it ain't right nor reasonable. And what's more, he shan't have
+him!” said Yancy, and his tone was final.
+
+“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.
+
+“Looks like your neighbors would stand by you,” suggested the squire.
+
+“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--”
+
+“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!”
+
+“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.”
+
+“He stood it until he was risin' eighty,” said Crenshaw.
+
+“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.
+
+“Don't you reckon it would be some better to leave the state afo' you.
+done the killing?” suggested Yancy.
+
+“Well, a man might. I don't know but what he'd be justified in getting
+shut of his troubles like that.”
+
+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.
+
+“I suppose Ferris is at the Barony?” he said, drawing his horse down to
+a walk.
+
+“I believe he is,” said Betty with a curt little air.
+
+“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.
+
+“Were you at the trial?” she asked. “I am glad they didn't get Hannibal
+away from Yancy.”
+
+“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.
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“I know your half-brother, Tom Ware--I know him very well.” There was
+another brief silence.
+
+“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.
+
+“You've spent much of your time up North?” suggested Murrell.
+
+“Four years. I've been at school, you know. That's where I met Judith.”
+
+“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!”
+
+“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.
+
+“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!”
+
+“Let me go--let me go!” cried Betty indignantly.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“Don't let him follow me!” she gasped, and Carrington, striding forward,
+caught Murrell's horse by the bit.
+
+“Not so fast, you!” he said coolly. The two men glared at each other for
+a brief instant.
+
+“Take your hand off my horse!” exclaimed Murrell hoarsely, his mouth hot
+and dry with a sense of defeat.
+
+“Can't you see she'd rather be alone?” said Carrington.
+
+“Let go!” roared Murrell, and a murderous light shot from his eyes.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+“I reckon I ought to have twisted his neck,” he said with a deep breath.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI. BETTY SETS OUT FOR TENNESSEE
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Betty shook her head. “No, I am going on to Wheeling.”
+
+“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.
+
+Betty exclaimed: “Why, I am going to Memphis, too!”
+
+“Are you? By canal to Cumberland, and then by stage over the National
+Road to Wheeling?”
+
+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.
+
+“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.”
+
+Betty gave him a glance of surprise.
+
+“Why, how did you learn my name?” she asked.
+
+“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.
+
+“So the railroads are going to hurt the steamboats?” she presently said.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+“If I can be of any service to you--” he began, with just a touch of
+awkwardness in his manner.
+
+“No, I thank you, Mr. Carrington,” said Betty quickly.
+
+“Good night... good-by,” he turned away, and Betty saw his tall form
+disappear in the twilight.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII. THE FIGHT AT SLOSSON'S TAVERN
+
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“Why--Bob Yancy!” he cried, in apparent astonishment.
+
+“Yes, sir--Bob Yancy. Does it happen you are looking fo' him, Captain?”
+ inquired Yancy.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“They were mightily stirred up at the Cross Roads when I left, wondering
+what had come of you,” he observed.
+
+“When did you quit there?” asked Yancy.
+
+“About a fortnight ago,” said Murrell. “Every one approves of your
+action in this matter, Yancy,” he went on.
+
+“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.
+
+“Bladen's hurt himself by the stand he's taken it this matter,” Murrell
+added.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“Howdy?” he drawled.
+
+“Howdy?” responded Mr. Yancy.
+
+“Shall you stop here?” asked Murrell, sinking his voice. Yancy nodded.
+“Can you put us up?” inquired Murrell, turning to the tavern-keeper.
+
+“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.
+
+“Let's liquor,” said the captain over his shoulder, moving off in the
+direction of the bar.
+
+“Come on, Nevvy!” said Yancy following, and they all entered the tavern.
+
+“Well, here's to the best of good luck!” said Murrell, as he raised his
+glass to his lips.
+
+“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.
+
+“Here, youngster--a present for you;” he said good-naturedly. Hannibal,
+embarrassed by the unexpected gift, edged to his Uncle Bob's side.
+
+“Ain't you-all got nothing to say to the gentleman?” asked Yancy.
+
+“Thank you, sir,” said the boy.
+
+“That sounds a heap better. Let's see--why, if it ain't ten
+dollars--think of that!” said Yancy, in surprise.
+
+“Let's have another drink,” suggested Murrell.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“Did you-all happen to notice what they're doing in the tavern now?”
+ asked Hannibal.
+
+“I low they're makin' a regular hog-killin' of it,” said Eph smartly.
+Hannibal descended from the fence.
+
+“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.
+
+“You-all run along to bed, Nevvy,” said Yancy, as Hannibal entered the
+room. “I'll mighty soon follow you.”
+
+Eph secured a tin candle-stick with a half-burnt candle in it and led
+the way into the passage back of the bar.
+
+“Mas'r Slosson's jus' mo' than layin' back!” he said, as he closed the
+door after them.
+
+“I reckon you-all will lay back, too, when you get growed up,” retorted
+Hannibal.
+
+“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.”
+
+“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.
+
+“This heah's yo' chamber,” he said, and preceding his companion into the
+room, placed the candle on a chair.
+
+“Well--I low I clean forgot something!” cried Hannibal.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“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!”
+
+“I'm a rip-staver,” said Slosson thickly. “But I've knowed enough sorrow
+to kill a horse.”
+
+“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.
+
+“Have a drink with me!” cried Slosson, giving way to drunken laughter.
+
+“Don't you reckon you'll spite yo' appetite fo' breakfast, neighbor?”
+ suggested Yancy.
+
+“Do you mean you won't drink with me?” roared Slosson.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+
+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?
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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--.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII. ON THE RIVER
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“You're leaving to-night?” he asked.
+
+“Yes--isn't it miserable the way it rains? And why are they so slow--why
+don't they hurry with that boat?”
+
+“It's in the last lock now,” explained Carrington.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“We will reach New Madrid to-night,” he told her. They were watching the
+river, under a flood of yellow moonlight.
+
+“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.
+
+“Thank you, your--your family--” he hesitated.
+
+“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.”
+
+“Oh--then he's not even your half-brother?”
+
+“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.”
+
+“Then you own Belle Plain?” and Carrington sighed.
+
+“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!”
+
+“I reckon you'll be equal to that!” said-Carrington, convinced of
+Betty's all-compelling charm.
+
+“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!”
+
+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.
+
+“You'll be mighty glad to have this over with, Miss Malroy--” he said at
+length, with a comprehensive sweep toward the river.
+
+“Yes--shan't you?” and she opened her eyes questioningly.
+
+“No,” said Carrington with a short laugh, drawing a chair near hers and
+sitting down.
+
+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.
+
+“Is that New Madrid?--Oh, is it, Mr. Carrington?”' she cried eagerly.
+
+“I reckon so,” but he did not alter his position.
+
+“But you're not looking!”
+
+“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:
+
+“I thought you were--different.”
+
+“I'm not,” and Carrington's hand covered hers.
+
+“Oh--you mustn't kiss my hand like that--”
+
+“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.
+
+“No--no--” and Betty moved still farther away.
+
+“Give me a chance to win your love, Betty!”
+
+“You mustn't talk so--I am nothing to you--”
+
+“Yes, you are. You're everything to me,” said Carrington doggedly.
+
+“I'm not--I won't be!” and Betty stamped her foot.
+
+“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--”
+
+“But I do--yes, I do--indeed--”
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“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!”'
+
+“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.
+
+“Do you mean that?” he asked slowly, rising.
+
+“Yes--yes--a million times, yes!”
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“Charley!”
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX. JUDGE SLOCUM PRICE
+
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“Who are you?” he demanded, and his voice rumbled thickly forth from his
+capacious chest. The very sound was sleek and unctuous.
+
+“I'm Hannibal,” said the small figure. He was meditating flight; he
+glanced over his shoulder toward the woods.
+
+“No, you ain't. He's been dead a thousand years, more or less. Try
+again,” recommended the man.
+
+“I'm Hannibal Wayne Hazard,” said the boy. The man quitted his chair.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“You don't belong in these parts, do you?” asked the judge, when he had
+completed his scrutiny.
+
+“No, sir,” answered the boy. He glanced off down the road, where lights
+were visible among the trees. “What town is that?” he added.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+“I reckon I'll be glad to stop,” answered Hannibal. The judge clapped
+him playfully on the back.
+
+“Such confidence is inspiring! Make yourself perfectly at home. Are you
+hungry?”
+
+“Yes, sir. I ain't had much to eat to-day,” replied Hannibal cautiously.
+
+“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?”
+
+“I 'low I could eat it cold.”
+
+“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.
+
+“It will do all right just like it is,” said Hannibal.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+“Will you join me?” he asked.
+
+“No, sir. Please, I'd rather not,” said Hannibal.
+
+“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?”
+
+“I ain't learned to like it no ways,” said Hannibal.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.”
+
+“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!”
+
+“I'm most ten,” said Hannibal, with dignity.
+
+“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?”
+
+“From across the mountains.”
+
+“Alone?”
+
+“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.
+
+“And where are you going?”
+
+“To West Tennessee.”
+
+“Have you any friends there?”
+
+“Yes, sir.”
+
+“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.
+
+“I got ten dollars.”
+
+“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.
+
+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!
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+“What?” he said, glancing up.
+
+“I'm mighty sorry you're going to die,” said the boy softly.
+
+“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.
+
+“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:
+
+“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.”
+
+“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:
+
+“I think you'd better go to bed.”
+
+“I reckon I had,” agreed Hannibal, slipping from his chair.
+
+“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.
+
+“I can sleep most anywhere. I ain't no ways particular,” said Hannibal.
+
+“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.
+
+“Yes, sir,” said the boy.
+
+“Have you said your prayers?” inquired the judge.
+
+“No, sir. I ain't said 'em yet.”
+
+“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.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X. BOON COMPANIONS
+
+
+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:
+
+“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.
+
+“I take it I'm intruding,” the new-comer said sourly.
+
+“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.
+
+“I've heard said there was honor among thieves,” he remarked.
+
+“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.
+
+But Solomon Mahaffy's long face did not relax in its set expression.
+
+“I saw your light,” he explained, “but you seem to be raising first-rate
+hell all by yourself.”
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“You feel bitter about this, Solomon?” he said.
+
+“I do,” said Mahaffy, in a tone of utter finality.
+
+“You'll feel better with three fingers of this trickling through your
+system,” observed the judge, pushing a glass toward him.
+
+“When did I ever sneak a jug into my shanty?” asked Mahaffy sternly,
+evidently conscious of entire rectitude in this matter.
+
+“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?”
+
+“Have I ever been caught like this?” demanded Mahaffy.
+
+“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.”
+
+“Do I drink alone?” insisted Mahaffy doggedly.
+
+“I never give you the chance,” retorted his friend. Mr. Mahaffy drew
+near the table. “Sit down,” urged the judge.
+
+“I hope you feel mean?” said Mahaffy.
+
+“If it's any satisfaction to you, I do,” admitted the judge.
+
+“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.
+
+“I love to see you in a perfectly natural attitude like that, Solomon,
+with your arm crooked. What's the news from the landing?”
+
+Mahaffy brought his fist down on the table.
+
+“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!”
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+At the judge's elbow Mr. Mahaffy changed his position with nervous
+suddenness. Then he folded his long arms.
+
+“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.”
+
+“Who was he?” asked the judge.
+
+“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.”
+
+It occurred to the judge that he himself had news to impart. He must
+account for the boy's presence.
+
+“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.”
+
+“Did you get those dimensions out of the jug?” inquiry Mahaffy, with a
+frightful bark that was intended for a sarcastic laugh.
+
+“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--”
+
+“What were you in that bloody time, a sutler?” inquired Mahaffy
+insultingly.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.”
+
+“Who is he?” asked Mahaffy.
+
+“Haven't I just told you?” said the judge reproachfully. Mahaffy
+laughed.
+
+“You've told me something. Who is he?”
+
+“His name is Hannibal Wayne Hazard. Wait until he wakes up and see if it
+isn't.”
+
+“Sure he isn't kin to you?” said Mahaffy.
+
+“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.”
+
+“Speaking of posterity, which isn't present, Mr. Price, I'll say it is
+embarrassed by the attention,” observed Mahaffy.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+“Hullo, there!” The judge scrambled to his feet, and taking up the
+candle, stepped, or rather staggered, into the yard. Mahaffy followed
+him.
+
+“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.
+
+“Is there an inn hereabouts?” he asked.
+
+“You'll find one down the road a ways,” said Mahaffy. The judge said
+nothing. He was staring up at Murrell with drunken gravity.
+
+“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.
+
+“Did he carry a bundle and rifle?” he asked. Murrell gave eager assent.
+
+“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.
+
+“You'll know me again,” he observed.
+
+“Anywhere,” said the judge.
+
+“I hope that's a satisfaction to you,” said Murrell.
+
+“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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI. THE ORATOR OF THE DAY
+
+
+“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?”
+
+“I--please, I don't know--” gasped the child.
+
+“Hannibal, who was that man?” repeated the judge.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“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?”
+
+“No,” said Hannibal.
+
+“Took you to raise, did he--and abused you--infernal hypocrite!” cried
+the judge with righteous wrath.
+
+“He tried to get me away from my Uncle Bob. He's been following us since
+we crossed the mountains.”
+
+“Where is your Uncle Bob?”
+
+“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.
+
+“There, my son--” he said soothingly. “Now you tell me when he died, and
+all about it.”
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“You won't let him take me?”
+
+“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.
+
+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.”
+
+“Were it my Uncle Bob?” cried Hannibal, lifting a swollen face to his.
+
+“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.”
+
+“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.
+
+“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.”
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“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.”
+
+“I suppose we may confidently look to you to favor us with a few
+eloquent words?” said Mr. Mahaffy.
+
+“And why not, Solomon?” asked the judge.
+
+“Why not, indeed!” echoed Mr. Mahaffy.
+
+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.
+
+“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:
+
+“Where's your nigger? We want to put him in here!”
+
+“I reckon he's gone fishin'. I never seen the beat of that nigger to go
+fishin',” said the sheriff.
+
+“Whoop! Ain't you goin' to put him in here?” yelled the countryman.
+
+“It's a mighty lonely spot for a nigger,” said the sheriff doubtingly.
+
+“Lonely? Well, suppose he ups and lopes out of this?”
+
+“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!”
+
+“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?”
+
+“Well, there's some sense in that,” agreed the sheriff.
+
+“There's a whole heap of sense in it!”
+
+“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.”
+
+“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.
+
+“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.”
+
+“Oh, let the nigger fish--he has powerful luck. What's he usin',
+Sheriff; worms or minnies?”
+
+“Worms,” said the sheriff shortly.
+
+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.
+
+“La, Judge Price, how you do run on!” she said with a coquettish toss of
+her curls.
+
+“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?”
+
+“Now, Judge Price, you know a heap better than to ask me that!” she
+answered, shaking her head.
+
+“No offense, ma'am,” said the judge, hiding his disappointment, and with
+Mahaffy he quitted the bar.
+
+“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!”
+
+“Maybe I'll be forced to it yet,” responded the judge with gloomy
+pessimism.
+
+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.
+
+“Not yet!” he begged thickly.
+
+“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.
+
+“It ain't so bad,” said the judge after a time, but with a noticeable
+lack of enthusiasm.
+
+“Were you in shape to put anything better than water into it, Mr.
+Price?” The judge winced. He always winced at that “Mr.”
+
+“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.”
+
+“It is, indeed,” agreed Mahaffy.
+
+“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!”
+
+“Why did you ever come here?” Mahaffy spoke sharply.
+
+“I might ask the same question of you, and in the same offensive tone,”
+ said the judge.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+They could see the crowd that came and went about the tavern, they
+caught the distant echo of its mirth.
+
+“Common--quite common,” said the judge with somber melancholy.
+
+“I didn't see anything common,” said Mahaffy sourly. “The drinks weren't
+common by a long sight.”
+
+“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.”
+
+“Skunks!” said Mahaffy.
+
+“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?”
+
+“I don't begrudge 'em their liquor,” said Mahaffy with acid dignity.
+
+“I do,” interrupted the judge. “I hope it's poison to 'em.
+
+“It will be in the long run, if it's any comfort to you to know it.”
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+“It's the pussy fellow!” cried a voice.
+
+“Oh, shut up--don't you think I know him?” retorted the sheriff tartly.
+
+“Gentlemen--” began the judge blandly.
+
+“Get the well-rope!”
+
+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.
+
+“Mr. Slocum Price, or whatever your name is, your little game is up!”
+
+“Get the well-rope! Oh, hell--won't some one get the well-rope?” The
+voice rose into a wail of entreaty.
+
+The judge's eyes, rather startled, slid around in their sockets. Clearly
+something was wrong--but what--what?
+
+“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.
+
+“Dear madam, this is an unexpected pleasure!” said the judge, with his
+hand upon his heart.
+
+“Don't you make your wicked old sheep's eyes at me, you brazen thing!”
+ cried the lady.
+
+“You're wanted,” said the sheriff grimly, still keeping his hand on the
+judge's shoulder.
+
+“For what?” demanded the judge thickly. The sheriff had no time in which
+to answer.
+
+“I want my money!” shrieked the landlady.
+
+“Your money--Mrs. Walker, you amaze me!” The judge drew himself up
+haughtily, in genuine astonishment.
+
+“I want my money!” repeated Mrs. Walker in even more piercing tones.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“I can explain--” cried the judge.
+
+“Make him give me my money!” wailed Mrs Walker.
+
+“Jezebel!” roared the judge, in a passion of rage.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“He's his partner--”
+
+“There's no evidence against him,” said the sheriff.
+
+A tall fellow, in a fringed hunting-shirt, shook a long finger under
+Mahaffy's aquiline nose.
+
+“You scoot--that's what--you make tracks! And if we ever see your ugly
+face about here again, we'll--”
+
+“You'll what?” inquired Mahaffy.
+
+“We'll fix you out with feathers that won't molt, that's what!”
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII. THE FAMILY ON THE RAFT
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+“I declare, Dick, you might ha' told a body you wa'n't alone!” she said
+reproachfully.
+
+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.
+
+“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!”
+
+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.
+
+“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!”
+
+“You can feel his heart beat, and he's bleeding some,” said Cavendish.
+
+“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.
+
+“He's got a right to be dead!” said Cavendish.
+
+“Get the shears, Dick--I must snip away some of his hair.”
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+“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?”
+
+“The freshet's leaving us. I'll run until we hit the big water down by
+Pleasantville, and then tie up,” said Cavendish.
+
+“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.
+
+“Oh, put him in our bed!” cried all the little Cavendishes.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“He 'pears powerful distressed about something,” said Mrs. Cavendish. “I
+reckon I'd better give him a little stimulant now.”
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.”
+
+“He had ought to have a doctor to look at them cuts of his,” said Mrs.
+Cavendish.
+
+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.
+
+“Howdy,” said Cavendish genially.
+
+“Howdy,” they answered.
+
+“Where might I find the nearest doctor?” inquired Cavendish.
+
+“Within about six foot of you,” said one of the group.
+
+“Meaning yourself?”
+
+“Meaning myself.”
+
+Briefly Cavendish told the story of Yancy's rescue.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“How about them bandages, Doc?” demanded Cavendish.
+
+“Oh, I reckon they'll do,” replied the doctor indifferently.
+
+“Will he live?”
+
+“I can't say. You'll know all about that inside the next forty-eight
+hours. Better let the rest have a look.”
+
+“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.
+
+“Leave him here--why?” demanded the doctor slowly.
+
+“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.
+
+“You picked him up, didn't you?” asked one of the men.
+
+“I certainly did,” said Cavendish.
+
+“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!”
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII. THE JUDGE BREAKS JAIL
+
+
+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.
+
+“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--”
+
+“Unless I do get more air, you will not be troubled long by me!”
+ declared the judge in a tone of melancholy conviction.
+
+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?
+
+“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.
+
+“You will kindly bear in mind, sir, that I have been convicted of no
+crime!” retorted the judge.
+
+“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!”
+
+“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.
+
+“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?”
+
+“Well, sir, what's going to happen to me?” demanded the judge angrily.
+
+“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.
+
+“And, waking and sleeping, I have that before me!” cried the judge
+bitterly.
+
+“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.”
+
+“Have you taken steps to find the boy, or Solomon Mahaffy?” inquired the
+judge.
+
+“For what?”
+
+“How is my innocence going to be established--how am I going to clear
+myself if my witnesses are hounded out of the county?”
+
+“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.”
+
+The judge shuddered. The sheriff continued placidly:
+
+“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.”
+
+“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.
+
+“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.”
+
+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.
+
+“Well, just so my life ain't cut short!” he whispered.
+
+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.
+
+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!
+
+“Yes--and work him like a horse, and probably abuse him into the
+bargain--”
+
+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.
+
+“Heaven helping me, I'll brain a citizen or two before it comes to
+that!” he told himself.
+
+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.
+
+“Are you awake, Price?” It was Mahaffy who spoke.
+
+“God bless you, Solomon Mahaffy!” cried the judge unsteadily.
+
+“I've got the boy--he's with me,” said Mahaffy.
+
+“God bless you both!” repeated the judge brokenly. “Take care of him,
+Solomon. I feel better now, knowing he's in good hands.”
+
+“Please, Judge--” it was Hannibal
+
+“Yes, dear lad?”
+
+“I'm mighty sorry that ten dollars I loaned you was bad--but you don't
+need ever to pay it back!”
+
+Mahaffy gave way to mirth.
+
+“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!”
+
+“It were Captain Murrell gave it to me,” explained Hannibal.
+
+“I consecrate myself to his destruction! Judge Slocum Price can not be
+humiliated with impunity!”
+
+“I should think you would save your wind, Price, until you'd waddled out
+of danger!” Mahaffy spoke, gruffly.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+“The blessed sky and air!” he murmured, breathing deep. “A week of this
+would have broken my spirit!”
+
+“If you can, Price, you'd better come feet first,” suggested Mahaffy.
+
+“Not sufficiently acrobatic, Solomon--it's heads or I lose!” said the
+judge.
+
+He thrust his shoulders into the opening and wriggled outward. Suddenly
+his forward movement was arrested.
+
+“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.
+
+“I guess you're stuck, Price!”
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“Let's try you edgewise!” And Mahaffy pushed the judge into the jail
+again.
+
+“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.”
+
+“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.”
+
+“In Heaven's name, do that to-night, Solomon!” implored the judge. “Why
+procrastinate?”
+
+“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!”
+
+The judge groaned.
+
+“You're right, Solomon; I'd forgotten the dogs,” and he groaned again.
+
+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.
+
+“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.”
+
+“Then you reckon wrong,” said the judge sententiously, as he hauled on
+his trousers.
+
+“No?--you needn't hurry none. I'll get them dishes when I fetch your
+dinner,” he added, as he took his leave.
+
+A little later the blacksmith appeared and fitted three iron bars to the
+window.
+
+“I reckon that'll hold you, old feller!” he observed pleasantly.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“Well, judge, I got company for you,” cried the sheriff cheerfully, as
+he threw open the door. “A hoss-thief!”
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+“Neighbor, that means me!” he cried.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+“What next?” a voice asked.
+
+“Get dry brush--these are green logs--we'll burn this jail!”
+
+“Hold on!” the judge recognized the horse-thief as the speaker. “There's
+an old party in there! No need to singe him!”
+
+“Friend?”
+
+“No, I tried him.”
+
+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.
+
+“Your servant, gentlemen!” he said, lifting his hat.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+“How do you feel, Price?” asked Mahaffy at length, over his shoulder.
+
+“Like one come into a fortune! Those horse-thieves gave me a fine scare,
+but did me a good turn.”
+
+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.
+
+“Go on!” commanded Mahaffy.
+
+“Do you 'low the judge can stand it?” asked Hannibal.
+
+“Bless you, lad!” panted the judge feelingly.
+
+“He's got to stand it--either that, or what do you suppose will happen
+to us if they start their dogs?” said Mahaffy.
+
+“Solomon's right--you are sure we are not going in a circle, Hannibal?”
+
+“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.”
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+“What's come of they trail now?” cried the judge again. “He'll be a good
+dog that follows it through, these woods!”
+
+They had paused on a thickly wooded hillside.
+
+“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.”
+
+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.
+
+“Your parents took no chances when they named you Solomon!” said the
+judge approvingly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV. BELLE PLAIN
+
+
+“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!”
+
+“I reckon you'll notice some changes,” remarked Tom.
+
+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.
+
+“What is it you want to see, anyhow, Betty?” Tom demanded, turning on
+her.
+
+“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!
+
+“Why, Tom! Why does the lawn look like this?”
+
+“Like what?” inquired Tom.
+
+“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.
+
+Mr. Ware rubbed his chin reflectively with the back of his hand.
+
+“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.”
+
+“Haven't I slaves enough?” she asked.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+“It's positively squalid!” cried Betty, with a little stamp of her foot.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+“Inspecting your domain, Betty?” he asked, as he took his place near her
+on the step.
+
+“Why didn't you tell me, Charley--or at least prepare me for this?” she
+asked, almost tearfully.
+
+“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!”
+
+“What am I going to do, Charley?”
+
+“Keep after him until you get what you want, it's the only way to manage
+Tom that I know of.”
+
+“It's horrid to have to assert one's self!”
+
+“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!”
+
+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.
+
+“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.”
+
+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.
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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!
+
+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!
+
+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,
+
+“That'll do; he's had enough, I reckon, to learn him!” He added sullenly
+to Betty, “Sorry you seen this, Miss!”
+
+“How dare you order such a punishment without authority!” cried Betty
+furiously.
+
+Hicks gave her a black scowl.
+
+“I don't need no authority to whip a shirker,” he said insolently, as he
+turned away.
+
+“Stop!” commanded Betty, her eyes blazing. She strove to keep her voice
+steady. “You shall not remain at Belle Plain another hour.”
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+“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.”
+
+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!
+
+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--!
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“Is it Mr. Norton?” asked Betty.
+
+“No, Miss--he didn't give no name, Miss.”
+
+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.
+
+“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--”
+
+“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.”
+
+“Don't call me Betty.”
+
+“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.
+
+“Perhaps he doesn't want me--”
+
+“Yes, he does. That was plain as day.”
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.”
+
+“And it's taken you all this time?”
+
+Carrington regarded her seriously.
+
+“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.
+
+“Really--you must have chosen poorly then when you selected New Madrid.
+It couldn't have been a good place for your purpose.”
+
+“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--”
+
+“Mayn't I show you Belle Plain?” asked Betty quickly.
+
+But Carrington shook his head.
+
+“I don't care anything about that,” he said. “I didn't come here to see
+Belle Plain.”
+
+“You certainly are candid,” said Betty.
+
+“I intend to be honest with you always.”
+
+“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.
+
+He looked at her with great sweetness of expression.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“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?”
+
+“Very beautiful!” Carrington's glance was fixed on her face.
+
+“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?”
+
+“Then you expect to remain in the neighborhood?”
+
+“I've given up the river, and I'm going to get hold of some land--”
+
+“Land?” said Betty, with a rising inflection.
+
+“Yes, land.”
+
+“I thought you were a river-man?”
+
+“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.
+
+“Are you going--good-by, Mr. Carrington,” and Betty's fingers tingled
+with his masterful clasp long after he had gone.
+
+Carrington sauntered slowly down the path to the highroad.
+
+“She didn't ask me to come back--an oversight,” he told himself
+cheerfully.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV. THE SHOOTING-MATCH AT BOGGS'
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“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--”
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+“Are you hurt, Price?” demanded Mahaffy, betraying an anxiety of which
+he was instantly ashamed.
+
+“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.
+
+“You mean you've been in somebody's springhouse?”
+
+“It was unlocked, Solomon, This will be a warning to the owner. I
+consider I have done him a kindness.”
+
+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.
+
+“For the boy, Solomon,” he said gently, when he caught Mahaffy's steady
+disapproving glance fixed upon him as he displayed this last trophy.
+
+“What sort of an example are you setting him?”
+
+“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!”
+
+Thereafter the judge went through the land with an eye out for
+wash-lines.
+
+“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!”
+
+Two nights later Mr. Mahaffy accepted a complete change of under linen,
+but without visible sign of gratitude.
+
+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.
+
+“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!”
+
+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.
+
+“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--”
+
+“What do I know about the human system?”
+
+“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--”
+
+“What do I know about medicine?” inquired Mahaffy.
+
+“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.”
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+As he spoke, Bruce Carrington appeared in the tavern door; pausing
+there, he glanced curiously at the shabby wayfarers.
+
+“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.
+
+“Are you the voice from the tomb?” inquired the judge, in a tone of
+playful sarcasm.
+
+Carrington, amused, sauntered toward him.
+
+“That's one for you, Mr. Pegloe!” he said.
+
+“I am charmed to meet a gentleman whose spirit of appreciation shows his
+familiarity with a literary allusion,” said the judge, bowing.
+
+“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?”
+
+“I'm going now, Mr. Pegloe,” answered Carrington, as he followed the
+judge, who, with Mahaffy and the boy, had moved off.
+
+“Better stop at Boggs'!” Pegloe called after them.
+
+But the judge had already formed his decision.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+“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!”
+
+Carrington laughed.
+
+“The clostest shooting rifle you ever sighted--eh?” he repeated. “Why,
+aren't you afraid of it?”
+
+“No,” said Hannibal scornfully. “But she kicks you some if you don't
+hold her right.”
+
+There was a rusty name-plate on the stock of the old sporting rifle;
+this had caught Carrington's eye.
+
+“What's the name here? Oh, Turberville.”
+
+The judge, a step or two in advance, wheeled in his tracks with a
+startling suddenness.
+
+“What?” he faltered, and his face was ashen.
+
+“Nothing, I was reading the name here; it is yours; sir, I suppose?”
+ said Carrington.
+
+The color crept slowly back into the judge's cheeks, but a tremulous
+hand stole up to his throat.
+
+“No, sir--no; my name is Price--Slocum Price!
+Turberville--Turberville--” he muttered thickly, staring stupidly at
+Carrington.
+
+“It's not a common name; you seem to have heard it before?” said the
+latter.
+
+A spasm of pain passed over the judge's face.
+
+“I--I've heard it. The name is on the rifle, you say?”
+
+“Here on the stock, yes.”
+
+The judge took the gun and examined it in silence.
+
+“Where did you get this rifle, Hannibal?” he at length asked brokenly.
+
+“I fetched it away from the Barony, sir; Mr. Crenshaw said I might have
+it.”
+
+The judge gave a great start, and a hoarse inarticulate murmur stole
+from between his twitching lips.
+
+“The Barony--the Barony--what Barony? The Quintard seat in North
+Carolina, is that what you mean?”
+
+“Yes,” said the boy.
+
+The judge, as though stunned, stared at Hannibal and stared at the
+rifle, where the rusted name-plate danced before his eyes.
+
+“What do you know of the Barony, Hannibal?” the words came slowly from
+the judge's lips, and his face had gone gray again.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“I don't know how long it were, but until Uncle Bob carried me away
+after the old general died.”
+
+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.
+
+“Hello!” he said, as the judge moved off. “You're the boy I saw at
+Scratch Hill!”
+
+Hannibal gave him a frightened glance, and edged to Mr. Mahaffy's side,
+but did not answer him.
+
+“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?”
+
+“Yes, sir; I reckon I do--”
+
+“Can't you tell me about Mr. Yancy?”
+
+“No, sir; I don't know exactly where he is--”
+
+“But how did you get here?” persisted Carrington.
+
+Suddenly Mahaffy turned on him.
+
+“Don't you see he's with us?” he said truculently.
+
+“Well, my dear sir, I certainly intended no offense!” rejoined
+Carrington rather hotly.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“Do you observe the decorations of those refreshment booths?--the
+tasteful disposition of our national colors, sir?” the judge presently
+inquired.
+
+Carrington smiled; he was able to follow his companion's train of
+thought.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“Why, Hannibal!” cried Betty Malroy.
+
+“Miss Betty! Miss Betty!” and Hannibal buried his head on her shoulder.
+
+“What is it, Hannibal; what is it, dear?”
+
+“Nothing, only I'm so glad to find you!”
+
+“I am glad to see you, too!” said Betty, as she wiped his tears away.
+“When did you get here, dear?”
+
+“We got here just to-day, Miss Betty,” said Hannibal.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“Why, what do you mean, Hannibal--isn't your Uncle Bob with you?”
+ demanded Betty.
+
+“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?”
+
+“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.
+
+“What ragamuffin's this, Betty?” growled Ware disgustedly.
+
+But Betty did not seem to hear.
+
+“Did you come alone, Hannibal?” she asked.
+
+“No, ma'am; the judge and Mr. Mahaffy, they fetched me.”
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+Betty looked at the judge rather inquiringly.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.”
+
+Now Betty caught sight of Carrington and bowed. Occupied with Hannibal
+and the judge, she had been unaware of his presence. Carrington stepped
+forward.
+
+“Have you met Mr. Norton, and my brother, Mr. Carrington?” she asked.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Hicks, the Belle Plain overseer, pushed his way to Murrell's side.
+
+“Here, John Murrell, ain't you going to show us a trick or two?” he
+inquired.
+
+Murrell turned quickly with a sense of relief.
+
+“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.
+
+“Don't you think you've seen about enough, Bet?” demanded Tom. “You
+don't care for the shooting, do you?”
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+“Our intruding friend, the Captain, ma'am, is certainly a master with
+his weapon,” he observed.
+
+Betty was already aware of this. She turned to Norton.
+
+“Charley, I can't bear to have him win!”
+
+“I am afraid he will, for anything I can do, Betty,” said Norton.
+
+“Mr. Carrington, can't you shoot?--do take Hannibal's rifle and beat
+him,” she coaxed.
+
+“Don't be too sure that I can!” said Carrington, laughing.
+
+“But I know you can!” urged Betty.
+
+“I hope you gentlemen are not going to let me walk off with the prize?”
+ said Murrell, approaching the group about the carriage.
+
+“Mr. Norton, I am told you are clever with the rifle.”
+
+“I am not shooting to-day,” responded Norton haughtily.
+
+Murrell stalked back to the line.
+
+“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!”
+
+“It would be hard to beat that--” they heard Murrell say.
+
+“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.
+
+“Center shot, ma'am!” cried the judge.
+
+“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.”
+
+“Our sentiments exactly, ma'am, are they not?” said the judge.
+
+“Perhaps you'd like to bet a little of your money?” remarked Murrell.
+
+“I'm ready to do that too, sir,” responded Norton quietly.
+
+“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.
+
+“Wait a minute--” he said, and passed his purse to Norton.
+
+“Cover his money, sir,” he added briefly.
+
+“Thank you, my horses have run away with most of my cash,” explained
+Norton.
+
+“Your shot!” said Carrington shortly, to the outlaw.
+
+Murrell taking careful aim, fired, clipping the center.
+
+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.
+
+“You shoot well, but a board stuck against a tree is no test for a man's
+nerve,” he said insolently.
+
+Carrington was charging his piece.
+
+“I only know of one other kind of target,” he observed coolly.
+
+“Yes--a living target!” cried Murrell.
+
+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.
+
+“No, my dear young, lady, our friend is quite able to care for himself.”
+
+Carrington shook the priming into the pan of Hannibal's ancient weapon.
+
+“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.
+
+“Another time--” said Murrell, scowling.
+
+“Any time,” answered Carrington indifferently.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI. THE PORTAL OF HOPE
+
+
+“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.”
+
+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.
+
+“I crave opportunity, Solomon--the indorsement of my own class. I feel
+that I shall have it here,” resumed the judge pensively.
+
+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.
+
+“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--”
+
+“And you made it your business, Mr. Price, to do your very damnedest to
+ruin his chances,” said Mahaffy, with sudden heat.
+
+“I ruin his chances?--I, sir? I consider that I helped his chances
+immeasurably.”
+
+“All right, then, you helped his chances--only you didn't, Price!”
+
+“Am I to understand, Solomon, that you regard my interest in the boy as
+harmful?” inquired the judge, in a tone of shocked surprise.
+
+“I regard it as a calamity,” said Mahaffy, with cruel candor.
+
+“And how about you, Solomon?”
+
+“Equally a calamity. Mr. Price, you don't seem able to grasp just what
+we look like!”
+
+“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.”
+
+“Price, what do you; suppose we look like--you and I?”
+
+“In a general way, Solomon, I am conscious that our appeal is to the
+brain rather than the eye,” answered the judge, with dignity.
+
+“I reckon even you couldn't do a much lower trick than use the boy as a
+stepping-stone,” pursued Mahaffy.
+
+“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.
+
+“Well, you let the boy have his chance, and don't you stick in your
+broken oar,” cried Mahaffy fiercely.
+
+The judge rolled over on his back, and stared up at the heavens.
+
+“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.
+
+Mahaffy having spoken his mind, preserved a stony silence.
+
+The judge got up and replenished the camp-fire, which had burnt low,
+then squatting before it, he peered into the flames.
+
+“You'll not deny, Solomon, that Miss Malroy exhibited a real affection
+for Hannibal?” he began.
+
+“Now don't you try to borrow money of her, Price,” said Mahaffy,
+returning to the attack.
+
+“Solomon--Solomon--how can you?”
+
+“That'll be your next move. Now let her alone; let Hannibal have his
+luck as it comes to him.”
+
+“You seem to forget, sir, that I still bear the name of gentleman!” said
+the judge.
+
+Mahaffy gave way to acid merriment.
+
+“Well, see that you are not tempted to forget that,” he observed.
+
+“If I didn't know your sterling qualities, Solomon, and pay homage to
+'em, I might be tempted to take offense,” said the judge.
+
+“It's like pouring water on a duck's back to talk to you, Price; nothing
+strikes in.”
+
+“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.”
+
+“Afternoon?” snapped Mahaffy irritably.
+
+“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.”
+
+“Humph!” said Mahaffy.
+
+“I've made my impression; I've been thrown with cultivated minds quick
+to recognize superiority; I've met with deference and consideration.”
+
+“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.”
+
+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.
+
+“I have a theory, Solomon, that I shall be handsomely supported by my
+new friends. They'll snatch at the opportunity.”
+
+“I see 'em snatching, Mr. Price,” said Mahaffy grimly.
+
+“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.
+
+“The thing for us to do--you and I, Price--is to clear out of here,”
+ said Mahaffy.
+
+“But what of the boy?”
+
+“Leave him with his friends.”
+
+“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--”
+
+“Price, you've made more demands on my stock of credulity than any man
+I've ever known!”
+
+The judge became somber-faced.
+
+“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.
+
+“Look here, Price, you talk as though you were a modern job; what's the
+matter anyhow?--have you got boils?”
+
+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.
+
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+“Goin' to locate, are you?” said Mr. Pegloe.
+
+“My friends urge it, sir, and I have taken the matter under
+consideration,” answered the judge.
+
+“Sho, do you know any folks hereabouts?” asked Mr. Pegloe.
+
+“Not many,” said the judge, with reserve.
+
+“Well, the only empty house in town is right over yonder; it belongs to
+young Charley Norton out at Thicket Point Plantation.”
+
+“Ah-h!” said the judge.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“I was hoping, sir, I might find you,” he said, as they met before the
+tavern.
+
+“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.”
+
+“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.
+
+“The house is quite at your service, sir,” he said, at length.
+
+“The rent--” began the judge. He had great natural delicacy always in
+mentioning matters of a financial nature.
+
+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.
+
+“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!”
+
+And thus handsomely did Charley Norton acquit himself of the mission he
+had undertaken at Betty Malroy's request.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+“She was mad enough, the way you pushed in on us at Boggs' yesterday.
+What happened back in North Carolina, Murrell, anyhow?”
+
+“Never you mind what happened.”
+
+“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.
+
+“Make it worth my while and I'll take her off your hands,” and Murrell
+laughed.
+
+Tom favored him with a sullen stare.
+
+“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.
+
+“So your sister doesn't like me?”
+
+“No, she doesn't,” said Ware, with simple candor.
+
+“Told you to put a stop to my coming here?”
+
+“Not here--to the house, yes. She doesn't give a damn, so long as she
+doesn't have to see you.”
+
+Murrell, somber-faced and thoughtful, examined a crack in the flooring.
+
+“I'd like to know what happened back yonder in North Carolina to make
+her so blazing mad?” continued Ware.
+
+“Well, if you want to know, I told her I loved her.”
+
+“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.
+
+“Open the door, Tom,” commanded Murrell.
+
+“It is close in here,” agreed the planter.
+
+“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?”
+
+“Oh, shut up,” said Tom, dropping his voice to a surly whisper.
+
+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.
+
+“Did she bring the boy here last night? I saw you drive off with him in
+the carriage.”
+
+“Yes, she makes a regular pet of the little ragamuffin--it's perfectly
+sickening!”
+
+“Who were the two men with him?”
+
+“One of 'em calls himself judge Price; the other kept out of the way, I
+didn't hear his name.”
+
+“Is the boy going to stay at Belle Plain?” inquired Murrell.
+
+“That notion hasn't struck her yet, for I heard her say at breakfast
+that she'd take him to Raleigh this afternoon.”
+
+“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.”
+
+“Eh--you don't say?” cried Ware.
+
+“Tom, what do you know about the Quintard lands; what do you know about
+Quintard himself?” continued Murrell.
+
+“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.”
+
+“And the land?”
+
+“Oh, he held on to that.”
+
+“Is there much of it?”
+
+“A hundred thousand acres,” said Ware.
+
+Murrell whistled softly under his breath.
+
+“What's it worth?”
+
+“A pot of money, two or three dollars an acre anyhow,” answered Ware.
+
+“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.”
+
+“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.”
+
+“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!”
+
+Mr. Ware seemed on the whole edified by the captain's unorthodox point
+of view.
+
+“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?”
+
+“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.
+
+“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.”
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+“White brains will have to think for them, if it's to be more than a
+flash in the pan,” said Murrell unheeding him.
+
+“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.
+
+“Look here, what do you think I have been working for--to steal a few
+niggers?”
+
+“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.”
+
+“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!”
+
+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.
+
+“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.”
+
+“Yet you couldn't have made the whites in Hayti believe that,” said
+Murrell, with a sinister smile.
+
+“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.
+
+“No, you won't, Tom. I'll look out for my friends. You'll be warned in
+time.”
+
+“A hell of a lot of good a warning will do!” growled Ware.
+
+“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!”
+
+“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.
+
+“You'd better come with me, Tom,” said Murrell.
+
+“With you?”
+
+“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.
+
+“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?”
+
+“I'll take my chances. What have I been taking all my life but the
+biggest sort of chances?--and for little enough!”
+
+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.
+
+“Well, how about the girl, Tom?” asked Murrell at length, in a low even
+tone.
+
+“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.
+
+“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?”
+
+“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.
+
+“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--”
+
+“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!”
+
+“If she were to die, you'd inherit?”
+
+Ware laughed harshly.
+
+“She looks like dying, doesn't she?”
+
+“Listen to me, Tom. I'll take her away, and Belle Plain is yours--land,
+stock and niggers!” said Murrell quietly.
+
+Ware shifted and twisted in his seat.
+
+“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!”
+
+Murrell favored him with a contemptuous glance.
+
+“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.”
+
+“Call it what you like.”
+
+“I offer to take the girl off your hands; when I quit the country she
+shall go with me--”
+
+“And I'd be left here to explain what had become of her!” cried Ware, in
+a panic.
+
+“You won't have anything to explain. She'll have disappeared, that will
+be all you'll know,” said Murrell quietly.
+
+“She'll never marry you.”
+
+“Don't you be too sure of that. She may be glad enough to in the end.”
+
+“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.
+
+Murrell's brow darkened.
+
+“I'll manage her,” he said briefly.
+
+“You were of some account until this took hold of you,” complained Ware.
+
+“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.
+
+Ware seemed to suck in hope through his shut teeth.
+
+“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!”
+
+“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.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII. BOB YANCY FINDS HIMSELF
+
+
+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?
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“How are you, stranger?” he demanded, in a soft drawl.
+
+“Where am I?” the words were a whisper on Yancy's bearded lips.
+
+“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.”
+
+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.
+
+“La, you are some better, ain't you, sir?” she cried, smiling down on
+him.
+
+“How did I get here, and where's my nevvy?” questioned Yancy anxiously.
+
+“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.
+
+“When, ma'am--last night?”
+
+“You got another guess coming to you, stranger!” It was Cavendish who
+spoke.
+
+“Do you mean, sir, that I been unconscious for a spell?” suggested Yancy
+rather fearfully, glancing from one to the other.
+
+“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.”
+
+“How long?”
+
+“Well, nigh on to three weeks.”
+
+They saw Yancy's eyes widen with a look of dumb horror.
+
+“Three weeks!” he at length repeated, and groaned miserably. He was
+thinking of Hannibal.
+
+“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!”
+
+“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.
+
+Polly shook her head regretfully.
+
+“How come you in the river?” asked Cavendish.
+
+“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.
+
+“You'll get him back,” said Polly soothingly.
+
+“Could you-all put me asho'?” inquired Yancy, with sudden eagerness.
+
+“We could, but we won't,” said Cavendish, in no uncertain tone.
+
+“Why, la!--you'd perish!” exclaimed Polly.
+
+“Are we far from where you-all picked me up?”
+
+Cavendish nodded. He did not like to tell Yancy the distance they had
+traversed.
+
+“Where are you-all taking me?” asked Yancy.
+
+“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.”
+
+“How old was your nevvy?” inquired Polly, reading the troubled look in
+Yancy's gray eyes.
+
+“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.
+
+“Just the age of my Richard,” said Polly, her glance full of compassion
+and pity.
+
+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:
+
+“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?”
+
+“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.
+
+“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.”
+
+“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.
+
+“I reckon I been a heap of bother to you-all,” said Yancy.
+
+“La, no,” Polly assured him; “you ain't been.”
+
+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.
+
+“I kin see the soles of his feet!” shrieked Keppel with passionate
+intensity, his small bleached eye glued to a crack.
+
+He was instantly ravished of the sight by Henry.
+
+“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.
+
+Mr. Cavendish appeared to allay hostilities.
+
+“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.
+
+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?
+
+“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.
+
+“It was Henry pickin' on Kep,” cried Constance.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+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?
+
+“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.
+
+“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!”
+
+But Yancy shook his head.
+
+“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!”
+
+“Shore they will! there's a lot of good in the world, so don't you fret
+none about him!” cried Polly.
+
+“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.”
+
+“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.
+
+“There's a heap mo' than a fit. I don't bear malice, but I stay mad a
+long time,” answered Yancy grimly:
+
+“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.
+
+Yancy closed his eyes, and presently, lulled by the soft ripple that
+bore them company, fell into a restful sleep.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII. AN ORPHAN MAN OF TITLE
+
+
+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.
+
+“Howdy!” said he, smiling up at them.
+
+“Howdy!” they answered, a sociable grin puckering their freckled faces.
+
+“Do you find yo'self pretty well, sir?” inquired Keppel.
+
+“I find myself pretty weak,” replied Yancy.
+
+“Me and Kep has been watching fo' to keep the flies from stinging you,”
+ explained Henry.
+
+“We-all takes turns doin' that,” Keppel added.
+
+“Well, and how many of you-all are there?” asked Yancy.
+
+“There's six of we-uns and the baby.”
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+Yancy instantly surmised that the reference was to Slosson.
+
+“I reckon I'll feel obliged to just naturally skin him,” he explained.
+
+“Sho', will he let you do that?” they demanded.
+
+“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.
+
+“Sho', is that the way you do it?” And round-eyed they gazed down on
+this fascinating stranger.
+
+“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?”
+
+They nodded.
+
+“What if Mr. Slosson totes a tickler, too?” asked Keppel insinuatingly.
+This opened an inviting field for conjecture.
+
+“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.”
+
+“My father's got a tickler; I seen it often,” vouchsafed Henry.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“Whoop! He'd carve 'em deep!” cried Keppel.
+
+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.
+
+“You got a nice little family, ma'am,” said Yancy.
+
+“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?”
+
+“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.”
+
+“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.
+
+“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.”
+
+“You-all ain't told me yo' name yet?” said Yancy.
+
+“It's Cavendish. Richard Keppel Cavendish, to get it all off my mind at
+a mouthful. And this lady's Mrs. Cavendish.”
+
+“My name's Yancy--Bob Yancy.”
+
+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.
+
+“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?”
+
+Polly and the children hung breathlessly on Mr. Yancy's reply.
+
+“I certainly have,” he rejoined promptly. “Back in No'th Carolina we
+went by the chimneys.”
+
+“Chimneys? What's chimneys got to do with titles, Mr. Yancy?” asked
+Polly, while her husband appeared profoundly mystified.
+
+“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.”
+
+“La!” cried Polly, smiling and showing a number of new dimples. “Dick
+don't mean militia titles, Mr. Yancy.”
+
+“Them's the only ones I know anything of,” confessed Yancy.
+
+“Ever hear tell of lords?” inquired Chills and Fever, tilting his head
+on one side.
+
+“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.
+
+“Are you ever heard of royalty?” and Cavendish fixed the invalid's
+wandering glance.
+
+“You mean kings?”
+
+“I shore do.”
+
+Yancy regarded him reflectively and made a mighty mental effort.
+
+“There's them Bible kings--” he ventured at length.
+
+Mr. Cavendish shook his head.
+
+“Them's sacred kings. Are you familiar with any of the profane kings,
+Mr. Yancy?”
+
+“Well, taking them as they come, them Bible kings seemed to average
+pretty profane.” Yancy was disposed to defend this point.
+
+“You must a heard of the kings of England. Sho', wa'n't any of yo' folks
+in the war agin' him?”
+
+“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.
+
+“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.”
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“Is that mo' than a Colonel?” Yancy risked the question hesitatingly,
+but he felt that speech was expected from him.
+
+“Yes,” said the possessor of the title.
+
+“Would a General lay it over you any?”
+
+“No, sir, he wouldn't.”
+
+Yancy gazed respectfully but uncertainly at Chills and Fever.
+
+“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.”
+
+“They are. I don't reckon there's another one but me in the whole United
+States.”
+
+“Think of that!” gasped Yancy.
+
+“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.
+
+“Dick's kind of titles are like having red hair and squint eyes. Once
+they get into a family they stick,” explained Polly.
+
+“I've noticed that, 'specially about squint eyes.” Yancy was glad to
+plant his feet on familiar ground.
+
+“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.
+
+“And their wives are ladies-ain't they, Dick?”
+
+Cavendish nodded.
+
+“Anybody with half an eye would know you was a lady, ma'am,” said Yancy.
+
+“Kep here is an Honorable, same as a senator or a congressman,”
+ Cavendish went on.
+
+“At his age, too!” commented Yancy.
+
+“And my daughter's the Lady Constance,” said Polly.
+
+“Havin' such a mother she ain't no choice,” observed Yancy, with an air
+of gentle deference.
+
+“Dick's got the family, Mr. Yancy. My folks, the Rhetts, was plain
+people.”
+
+“Some of 'em ain't so noticeably plain, either,” said Yancy.
+
+“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.”
+
+“La!” cried Polly, blushing furiously. “You shouldn't tell that, Dick.
+Mr. Yancy ain't interested.”
+
+“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!”
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.'
+
+“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.'
+
+“He says, 'You had ought to be kivered up in salt, young man, else yo'll
+spile in this climate.'
+
+“I says, 'I'll keep in any climate.'
+
+“He says, 'Polly ain't givin' her thoughts much to marryin', she's busy
+keepin' house fo' her pore old father.'
+
+“I says, 'I've come here special fo' to arouse them thoughts you
+mention. If I seem slow.'
+
+“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.'
+
+“I says, 'Put in yo' spare moments thinkin' up a suitable blessin' fo'
+us.'
+
+“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.'
+
+“I says, 'Does she encourage any of 'em?'
+
+“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?'
+
+“I says, 'If she don't encourage 'em none, she shore must disencourage
+'em. I 'low she gets my help in that.'
+
+“He says, 'They'll run you so far into the mountings, Mr. Cavendish,
+you'll never be heard tell of again in these parts.'
+
+“I says, 'I'll bust the heads offen these here galoots if they try
+that!'
+
+“He asks, grinnin', 'Have you arranged how yo' remains are to be sent
+back to yo' folks?'
+
+“I says, 'I'm an orphan man of title, a peer of England, and you can
+leave me lay if it cones to that.'
+
+“'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.
+
+“That's what I call co'tin!” remarked Mr. Yancy, with conviction.
+
+The Earl of Lambeth resumed
+
+“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.”
+
+“But, Dick, you ain't telling Mr. Yancy nothin' about yo' title,”
+ expostulated Polly.
+
+“I'd admire to hear mo' about that,” said Yancy.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.”
+
+Cavendish paused. Yancy was feeling that in his own person he had
+experienced some of the best symptoms of a title.
+
+“Then what?” he asked.
+
+“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.”
+
+“Does it always take 'em that way?” inquired Yancy.
+
+“It takes the Earls of Lambeth that way. I reckon you might say it was
+hereditary with 'em. Where was I at?”
+
+“Your grandpap, the second earl,” prompted Polly.
+
+“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.”
+
+“Of course he couldn't,” agreed Yancy.
+
+“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?”
+
+Mr. Yancy considered this likely, and said so.
+
+“You might send him writin' in a letter,” he suggested.
+
+The furious shrieking of a steam-packet's whistle broke in upon them.
+
+“It's another of them hawgs, wantin' all the river!” said Mr. Cavendish,
+and fled in haste to the steering oar.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX. THE JUDGE SEES A GHOST
+
+
+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.
+
+“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!”
+
+“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.”
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“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.”
+
+“What Norton?” asked Mr. Saul, when he had somewhat recovered from the
+effect of this announcement.
+
+“Mr. Charles Norton, of Thicket Point,” said the judge.
+
+“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.
+
+“He's a client of mine. We have mutual friends, sir--I refer to Miss
+Malroy,” the judge vouchsafed to explain.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.”
+
+Mr. Saul scrambled up out of the depths of his chair and exerted himself
+in the judge's behalf.
+
+“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.
+
+“How does the docket for the next term of court stand?” he inquired.
+
+“Pretty fair, sir,” said Mr. Saul.
+
+“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.
+
+“No, sir, just the ordinary run of cases.”
+
+“I hoped to hear you say different.”
+
+“You've set on the bench, sir?” suggested Mr. Saul.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“Eh?--what's that? No--” he appeared to hesitate. “Who is this man
+Quintard?” The question cost him an effort, that was plain.
+
+“He's the owner of a hundred-thousand-acre tract in this and abutting
+counties,” said Mr. Saul.
+
+The judge continued to stare down at the page.
+
+“Is he a resident of the county?” he asked, at length.
+
+“No, he lives back yonder in North Carolina.”
+
+“A hundred thousand acres!” the judge muttered thoughtfully.
+
+“There or thereabouts--yes, sir.”
+
+“Who has charge of the land?”
+
+“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.”
+
+The judge lapsed into a heavy, brooding silence.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“Who was that man?” he asked thickly, resting a shaking hand on the
+clerk's arm.
+
+“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!”
+
+“It's the heat in here--I reckon--” said the judge, and began to mop his
+face.
+
+“Ever seen the colonel before?” asked Mr. Saul curiously.
+
+“Who is he?”
+
+“Well, sir, he's one of our leading planters, and a mighty fine lawyer.”
+
+“Has he always lived here?”
+
+“No, he came into the county about ten years ago, and bought a place
+called The Oaks, over toward the river.”
+
+“Has he--has he a family?” The judge appeared to be having difficulty
+with his speech.
+
+“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.
+
+“Yes?” said the judge.
+
+“The colonel's got his friends, to be sure, but he don't mix much with
+the real quality.”
+
+“Why not?” asked the judge.
+
+“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.”
+
+“Get's 'em off, does he?” The judge spoke somewhat grimly.
+
+“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.”
+
+“Why not?” The judge was frowning now.
+
+“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.”
+
+The judge pondered this.
+
+“Do you mean to tell me, sir, that freedom of speech is not allowed?” he
+demanded, with some show of heat.
+
+“Perfect freedom, if you pick and choose your topic,” responded Mr.
+Saul.
+
+“Humph!” ejaculated the judge.
+
+“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.”
+
+“And did harm come of it?” asked the judge.
+
+“They always kept still.”
+
+“What do you mean by talking freely?”
+
+“Like asking how so and so got the money to buy his last batch of
+niggers,” explained Mr. Saul rather vaguely.
+
+“And Colonel Fentress is one of those about whose affairs it is best not
+to show too much curiosity?”
+
+“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.”
+
+The judge nodded.
+
+“I've met him,” he said briefly. “Does he belong hereabouts?”
+
+“No, hardly; he seems to hold a sort of roving commission. His home is,
+I believe, near Denmark, in Madison County.”
+
+“What's his antecedents?”
+
+“He's as common a white man as ever came out of the hills, but he
+appears to stand well with Colonel Fentress.”
+
+“Colonel Fentress!” The judge spat in sheer disgust.
+
+“You don't appear to fancy the colonel--” said Mr. Saul.
+
+“I don't fancy wearing a gag--and damned if I do!” cried the judge.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+“Well, I reckon he's a conundrum too!” reflected Mr. Saul, as the door
+swung shut.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+
+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.
+
+“It took you some time to get up that abstract, didn't it, Price?” he
+presently said, with artful indirection.
+
+“I shall go on with that in the morning, Solomon; my interest was
+dissipated this evening,” rejoined the judge.
+
+“Looks as though you had devoted a good part of your time to
+pedestrianism,” suggested Mahaffy.
+
+“Quite right, so I did, Solomon.”
+
+“Were you at Belle Plain?” demanded Mahaffy harshly and with a black
+scowl. The judge had agreed to keep away from Belle Plain.
+
+“No, Solomon, you forget our pact.”
+
+“Well, I am glad you remembered it.”
+
+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.
+
+“Where did you get 'em, Judge?--Oh, ain't they beautiful!” cried
+Hannibal, circling about the table in his excitement.
+
+“My dear lad, they were purchased only a few hours ago,” said the judge
+quietly, as he began to load them.
+
+“For Heaven's sake, Price, do be careful!” warned Mahaffy, who had a
+horror of pistols that extended to no other species of firearm.
+
+“I shall observe all proper caution, Solomon,” the judge assured him
+sweetly.
+
+“Judge, may I try 'em some day?” asked Hannibal.
+
+“Yes, my boy, that's part of a gentleman's education.”
+
+“Well, look out you don't shoot him before his education begins,”
+ snapped Mahaffy.
+
+“Where did you buy 'em?” Hannibal was dodging about the judge, the
+better to follow the operation of loading.
+
+“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.”
+
+“I declare, Price, you need a guardian, if ever a man did!” cried
+Mahaffy, in a tone of utter exasperation.
+
+“Why, Solomon?”
+
+“Why?--they are absolutely useless. It was a waste of good money that
+you'll be sorry about.”
+
+“Bless you, Solomon--they ain't paid for!” said the judge, with a thick
+little chuckle.
+
+“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.
+
+“I can sell 'em again,” observed the judge placidly.
+
+“For less than half what they are worth!--I never knew so poor a
+manager!”
+
+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.”
+
+Mahaffy laughed contemptuously, but was relieved to know the purpose to
+which the judge had devoted the afternoon.
+
+“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.
+
+“Try blowing it out try the snuffers!” jeered Mahaffy.
+
+“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!”
+
+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.
+
+“Did I nick the tallow, Hannibal?” The judge spoke anxiously.
+
+“Yes, sir, both shots.”
+
+“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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX. THE WARNING
+
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+“I suppose he comes to see Tom,” said Betty.
+
+“Is he here often?”
+
+“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.
+
+“Every day or so?” repeated Norton. “But you don't see him, Betty?”
+
+“No, of course I don't.”
+
+“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.
+
+“He doesn't bother me, Charley, if that's what you're thinking of. Let's
+talk of something else.”
+
+“He'd better not, or I'll make it a quarrel with him.”
+
+“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.
+
+“Well, just how often is Murrell here?” he demanded.
+
+“I told you--every few days. He and Tom seem wonderfully congenial.”
+
+They were silent for a moment.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.”
+
+“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.
+
+“Why, of course it is, dear, you are doing wonders!”
+
+“I've really been ashamed of the place, the way it looked--and I can't
+understand Tom!”
+
+“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.”
+
+“How long did the prejudice last, Charley?”
+
+“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.”
+
+“But, Charley, I do care for you! I'm very, very fond of you.”
+
+“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!”
+
+“You are very good about that--”
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+“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!”
+
+“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!”
+
+“You are very nice, anyway, Charley--” said Betty hurriedly, fortified
+by the planter's approach.
+
+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.
+
+“You've lost a couple of niggers, I hear?” he added with an oblique
+glance.
+
+“Yes,” said Norton.
+
+“Got on the track of them yet?” Norton shook his head. “I understand
+you've a new overseer?” continued Ware, with another oblique glance.
+
+“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.”
+
+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.
+
+“Going to turn farmer, is he?” asked Ware.
+
+“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.
+
+“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!”
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“I am sorry, gentlemen, but I reckon you have hold of the wrong
+person--”
+
+“Get down!” said one of the men briefly.
+
+“I haven't any money, that's why I say you have hold of the wrong
+person.”
+
+“We don't want your money.” The unexpectedness of this reply somewhat
+disturbed Norton.
+
+“What do you want, then?” he asked.
+
+“We got a word to say to you.”
+
+“I can hear it in the saddle.”
+
+“Get down!” repeated the man, a surly, bull-necked fellow. “Come--hurry
+up!” he added.
+
+Norton hesitated for an instant, then swung himself out of the saddle
+and stood in the road confronting the spokesman of the party.
+
+“Now, what do you wish to say to me?” he asked.
+
+“Just this--you keep away from Belle Plain.”
+
+“You go to hell!” said Norton promptly. The man glowered heavily at hire
+through the gathering gloom of twilight.
+
+“We want your word that you'll keep away from Belle Plain,” he said with
+sullen insistence.
+
+“Well, you won't get it!” responded Norton with quiet decision.
+
+“We won't?”
+
+“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.
+
+“You cur!” cried Norton, blind and dizzy, as he wheeled on him.
+
+“Damn him--let him have it!” roared the bullnecked man.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+Norton's horse trotted down the road. When it entered the yard at
+Thicket Point half an hour later, Carrington was on the porch.
+
+“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.
+
+“What's the matter, Mas'r?” asked the negro, as he appeared in the open
+door.
+
+“Why, here's Mr. Norton's horse come home without him. Do you know where
+he went this afternoon?”
+
+“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!”
+
+“We'll make sure of that. Get lanterns, and a couple of the boys!” said
+Carrington.
+
+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.
+
+“How is Mr. Norton?” she asked, extending her hand.
+
+“The doctor says he'll be up and about inside of a week, anyhow, Miss
+Malroy,” said Carrington.
+
+Betty gave a great sigh of relief.
+
+“Then his hurts are not serious?”
+
+“No,” said Carrington, “they are not in any sense serious.”
+
+“May I see him?”
+
+“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.
+
+“If you please.”
+
+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.
+
+“Miss Malroy is here,” he said shortly.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+“What--tears? Tears for me, Betty?” and he was much moved.
+
+“It's a perfect outrage! Who did it, Charley?” she asked.
+
+“You sit down and I'll tell you all about it,” said Norton happily.
+
+“Now tell me, Charley!” when she had seated herself.
+
+“Who fetched you, Betty--old Tom?”
+
+“No, I came alone.”
+
+“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?”
+
+“Yes--and robbed.”
+
+“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--”
+
+“Charley!”
+
+“I might almost be inclined to think they were friends of yours,
+Betty--or at least friends of friends of yours.”
+
+“What do you mean, Charley--friends of mine?”
+
+“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.”
+
+“Why should any one care whether you come to Belle Plain or not?”
+
+“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?”
+
+“He couldn't--he wouldn't have done it, Charley!” but she looked
+troubled, not too sure of this.
+
+“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?”
+
+“Please, Charley--” she began.
+
+“I'm in a dreadful state of mind when I think of you alone at Belle
+Plain--I wish you could love me, Betty!”
+
+“I do love you. There is no one I care half so much for, Charley.”
+
+Norton shook his bandaged head and heaved a prodigious sigh.
+
+“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.
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Was he able to show a proper amount of surprise?”
+
+“He appeared really shocked, Charley.”
+
+“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?”
+
+“I don't know, Charley;” but her voice was uncertain.
+
+“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.
+
+“You see, Charley, I fear--I am sure I don't love you the way I
+should--to marry you--”
+
+Charley, greatly excited, groaned and sat up, and groaned again.
+
+“Oh, please, Charley-lie still!” she entreated.
+
+“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?”
+
+“But you wouldn't want to marry me at once?”
+
+“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.”
+
+“You must try not to worry, Charley.”
+
+“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!”
+
+She looked at him pityingly, and with a certain latent tenderness in her
+mood.
+
+“Do you really care so much for me, Charley?”
+
+“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.
+
+“I must, Charley--”
+
+“Oh, don't--well, then, if you will go, I want Carrington to ride back
+with you.”
+
+“But I brought George with me--”
+
+“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.”
+
+“Very well, then, I'll ask Mr. Carrington. Good-by, Charley, dear!”
+
+Norton seemed to summon all his fortitude.
+
+“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.
+
+Betty paused irresolutely.
+
+“Charley--”
+
+“Yes, dear?”
+
+“Can't you be happy without me?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“But you don't try to be!”
+
+“No use in my making any such foolish effort, I'd be doomed to failure.”
+
+“Good-by, Charley--I really must go--”
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+“I am going to ride to Belle Plain with you, Miss Malroy,” he said, as
+he lifted her into her saddle.
+
+“Do you think it necessary?” she asked, but she did not look at him.
+
+“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.
+
+“I reckon it's all right, now,” he said briefly.
+
+“You will return at once to Mr. Norton?” she asked. He nodded. “And you
+will not leave him while he is helpless?”
+
+“No, I'll not leave him,” said Carrington, giving her a steady glance.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI. THICKET POINT
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“That was nice of you; we don't see very much of each other, do we,
+Tom?” said Betty pleasantly.
+
+Mr. Ware twisted his features, on which middle age had rested an
+untender hand, into a smile.
+
+“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.”
+
+“But you aren't old, Tom!”
+
+“I wish I were sure of seeing forty-five or even forty-eight again--but
+I'm not,” said Tom.
+
+“But that isn't really old,” objected Betty.
+
+“Well, that's old enough, Bet, as you'll discover for yourself one of
+these days.”
+
+“Mercy, Tom!” cried Betty.
+
+Mr. Ware consumed a cup of tea in silence.
+
+“You were over to see Norton, weren't you, Bet? How did you find him?”
+ he asked abruptly.
+
+“The doctor says he will soon be about again,” answered Betty.
+
+Tom stroked his chin and gazed at her reflectively.
+
+“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.
+
+“Why, Tom, why shouldn't I go there?” she demanded.
+
+“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.
+
+“You needn't distress yourself, Tom. I don't know that I shall go there
+again,” said Betty indifferently.
+
+“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.”
+
+“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.
+
+“Did Norton say if he had any idea as to the identity of the men who
+robbed him?” inquired Tom casually.
+
+“Their object wasn't robbery,” said Betty.
+
+“No?” Ware's glance was uneasy.
+
+“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.
+
+“He shouldn't put out a yarn like that, Bet. It isn't just the thing for
+a gentleman to do--”
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+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?
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“That was whar' they done kicked him most, Miss,” he added. Betty
+shuddered.
+
+“How much longer will he be confined to the house?” she asked.
+
+“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--”
+
+“Oh--” gasped Betty.
+
+“Seems like they was mighty careless whar' they put their feet, don't
+it, Miss?” said Jeff.
+
+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.
+
+At Thicket Point Charley Norton, greatly excited, hobbled into the
+library in search of Carrington. He found him reading by the open
+window.
+
+“Look here, Bruce!” he cried. “It's settled; she's going to marry me!”
+
+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.
+
+“What's that?” he asked a trifle thickly.
+
+“Betty Malroy is going to marry me,” said Norton. Carrington gazed at
+him in silence.
+
+“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.
+
+“I swear you take it quietly enough,” said Norton.
+
+“Do I?”
+
+“Can't you wish me joy?”
+
+Carrington held out his hand.
+
+“You are not going to take any risks now, you have too much to live
+for,” he said haltingly.
+
+“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--”
+
+“It's to be soon then?” Carrington asked, still haltingly.
+
+“Very soon.”
+
+There was a brief silence. Carrington, with face averted, looked from
+the window.
+
+“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.”
+
+Norton turned on him quickly.
+
+“You don't mean you've abandoned the notion of turning planter?” he
+demanded in surprise.
+
+“Well, yes. What's the use of my trying my hand at a business I don't
+know the first thing about?”
+
+“I wouldn't be in too big a hurry to decide finally on that point,”
+ urged Norton.
+
+“It has decided itself,” said Carrington quietly.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+“Mas'r Charley has rid to Raleigh, Sah,” said he; “but he done lef' this
+fo' me to han' to yo”--extending the letter.
+
+Carrington took it. He guessed its contents. Breaking the seal he read
+the half dozen lines.
+
+“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.
+
+“Then I 'low yo' want yo' supper now, Sar?” But Carrington shook his
+head.
+
+“No, you needn't bother, Jeff,” he said, as he turned toward the stairs.
+
+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.
+
+“Tell your master I have gone to Memphis,” he said briefly.
+
+“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.
+
+“No,” said Carrington. “Good-by, Jeff,” he added, turning away.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII. AT THE CHURCH DOOR
+
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“I suppose the end would have been the same there as here,” thought
+Betty.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“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.”
+
+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.
+
+“Do you care?” he said, and seemed to wonder that she should.
+
+“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.
+
+“Do you love me?” he whispered. The blood ran riot in his veins.
+
+“Why have you stayed away--why didn't you come to me? I have promised
+him--” she gasped.
+
+“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.
+
+“If you had only come!” she moaned.
+
+“I did--once,” he muttered.
+
+“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.”
+
+Carrington made an involuntary gesture of protest.
+
+“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.
+
+“I can not do it--I can not, Bruce!” she panted.
+
+“Dear--dear--don't tempt me!” He held himself in check.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“I am going now, Betty. You--you shouldn't stay here any longer with
+me.” He spoke with sudden resolution.
+
+“And I shall not see you again?” she asked, in a low, stifled voice.
+
+“It's good-by--” he muttered.
+
+“Not yet--oh, not yet, Bruce--” she implored. “I can not--”
+
+“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!”
+
+She went to him, and, as he bent above her, slipped her arms about his
+neck.
+
+“Kiss me--” she breathed.
+
+He kissed her hair, her soft cheek, then their lips met.
+
+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.
+
+“If you should ever need me--” “Never as now,” she said.
+
+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.
+
+
+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.
+
+He joined her before she had covered a third of the distance that
+separated the two plantations.
+
+“Thank God, my darling!” he cried fervently, as he ranged up alongside
+of her.
+
+“Then you weren't sure of me, Charley?”
+
+“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--”
+
+“Unless what, Charley?” she prompted.
+
+“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?”
+
+“Yes, Charley--I know.” She met his glance bravely.
+
+“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.”
+
+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.
+
+“We won't have to wait on him!” said Norton.
+
+“No--” Betty gasped out the monosyllable.
+
+“Why--my darling--what's the matter?” he asked tenderly, his glance bent
+in concern on the frightened face of the girl.
+
+“Nothing--nothing, Charley.”
+
+They had reined in their horses. Norton sprang to the ground and lifted
+her from the saddle.
+
+“It will only take a moment, dear!” he whispered encouragingly in the
+brief instant he held her in his arms.
+
+“Oh, Charley, it isn't that--it's dreadfully serious--” she said, with a
+wild little laugh that was almost hysterical.
+
+“I wouldn't have it less than that,” he said gravely.
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“I forbid this marriage!” he shrieked, when he could command speech.
+
+“You're too late to stop it, Tom, but you can attend it,” said Norton
+composedly.
+
+“You--you--” Words failed the planter; he sat his horse the picture of a
+grim and sordid despair.
+
+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.
+
+“I'll tie the horses, Betty,” said Norton.
+
+Ware turned fiercely to Bowen.
+
+“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!”
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“I'm shot--” he said, speaking with difficulty.
+
+“Charley--Charley--” she moaned, slipping her strong young arms about
+him and gathering him to her breast.
+
+He looked up into her face.
+
+“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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII. THE JUDGE OFFERS A REWARD
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+Later, the judge was shocked at what he characterized as official
+apathy. It became a point on which he expressed himself with surpassing
+candor.
+
+“Do they think the murderer's going to come in and give himself up?--is
+that the notion?” he demanded heatedly of Mr. Saul.
+
+“The sheriff owns himself beat, Sir; the murderer's got safely away and
+left no clue to his identity.”
+
+The judge waived this aside.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“Mr. Ware need not be considered,” observed the judge.
+
+“Well, there's been a heap of talk.”
+
+“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?”
+
+“Not that we know of.”
+
+“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:
+
+“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?”
+
+“I advise you didn't,” said Mr. Saul, with disappointing alacrity.
+
+The judge looked at him fixedly.
+
+“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.
+
+“You'll get yourself shot full of holes,” said Mr. Saul.
+
+“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?”
+
+“Can't say how they would take it,” rejoined Mr. Saul.
+
+Again the judge gave him a fixed scrutiny. Then ha shook him warmly by
+the hand.
+
+“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.
+
+“A cheap mind!” thought the judge, as he hurried up the street.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+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:
+
+
+“You talk too much. Shut up, or you'll go where Norton went.”
+
+
+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.
+
+“They are forming their estimate of me, Solomon; I shall have them on
+the run yet!” he declared.
+
+“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.
+
+The judge drew himself up with an air of lofty pride.
+
+“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.”
+
+A few moments later he burst in on Mr. Saul.
+
+“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.
+
+“Well, of course, you'll do as you please, but I'd keep still.”
+
+“You mean you regard this as an authentic expression, sir, and not as
+the joke of some irresponsible humorist?”
+
+“It's authentic enough,” said Mr. Saul impatiently.
+
+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.
+
+“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!
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“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?”
+
+“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.
+
+“There you go, Price--” began Mahaffy.
+
+“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.
+
+“I should think that fifty dollars was nearer to being your figure,”
+ suggested the cautious Mahaffy.
+
+“Inadequate and most insulting,” said the judge.
+
+“Well, where do you expect to get five thousand dollars?” cried Mahaffy
+in a tone of absolute exasperation.
+
+“Where would I get fifty?” inquired the judge mildly.
+
+For once Mahaffy frankly owned himself beaten. A gleam of admiration lit
+up his glance.
+
+“Price, you have a streak of real greatness!” he declared.
+
+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.
+
+“Shucks, he's nothing but an old windbag!” said Mr. Pegloe to a group of
+loungers gathered before his tavern in the early evening.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The judge pocketed his pistol, walked down the street, and with never a
+glance toward the tavern reentered his house.
+
+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:
+
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV. THE CABIN ACROSS THE BAYOU
+
+
+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.
+
+“Fetch him along in here,” said Ware briefly, without lifting his
+bloodshot eyes.
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“Morning, Mrs. Hicks,” he said, addressing himself to the mother, a
+hulking ruffian of a woman.
+
+“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.
+
+“They'd better keep her out of Murrell's way!” he thought; aloud he
+said, “Anybody with the captain?”
+
+“Colonel Fentress is.”
+
+“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.
+
+“I was afraid you'd be gone somewhere. Sit down--here, between the
+colonel and me,” said Murrell.
+
+“Well, what the devil do you want of me anyhow?” demanded the planter.
+
+“How's your sister, Tom?” inquired Murrell.
+
+“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.
+
+“Who's at Belle Plain now?” continued Murrell.
+
+“Bowen's wife and daughter have stayed,” answered Ware, still in a
+whisper.
+
+“For how long, Tom? Do you know?”
+
+“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.”
+
+“What's that you're saying?” cried Murrell.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.”
+
+“There's only Bess and the old woman busy outside,” said Murrell.
+
+“What's to hinder them from sticking an ear to a chink in the logs?”
+
+“Go on, and finish what you've got to say, and get it off your mind,”
+ said Murrell.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.”
+
+“It wasn't right! You placed me in the meanest kind of a situation,”
+ objected Ware sullenly, mopping his face.
+
+“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.
+
+“Who's that? Hicks?” asked Ware.
+
+“It isn't Hicks--never mind who it is, Tom,” answered Murrell quietly.
+
+“I thought you'd sent him out of the county?” muttered Ware, his face
+livid.
+
+“Look here, Tom, I don't ask your help, but I won't stand your
+interference. I'm going to have the girl.”
+
+“John, you'll ruin yourself with your damned crazy infatuation!” It was
+Fentress, no longer able to control himself, who spoke.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“What's all this fuss over Norton's death amounted to?” he said.
+
+“Are you sure you have come to the end of that, John?” inquired
+Fentress, still smiling.
+
+“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.
+
+“How soon can you get away from here, Tom?” he asked abruptly.
+
+“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.
+
+The colonel merely shrugged his shoulders. Murrell reached out a
+detaining hand and rested it on Ware's arm.
+
+“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.”
+
+Ware went from the cabin, and as the door swung shut Fentress faced
+Murrell across the table.
+
+“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.”
+
+“Hold on, Colonel--how do you know she is going to prove unwilling?”
+ objected Murrell, grinning.
+
+Fentress gave him a glance of undisguised contempt and rose from his
+seat.
+
+“I admit your past successes, John--that is, I take your word for
+them--but Miss Malroy is a lady.”
+
+“I have heard enough!” said Murrell angrily.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“We shall never agree, John--you have one idea and I another.”
+
+“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?”
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.”
+
+“This must be done without violence, John!” stipulated Fentress.
+
+“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?”
+
+“Could you take care of him for me below, at Natchez?” inquired
+Fentress.
+
+“As well there as anywhere, Colonel, and he'll pass into safe hands; he
+won't give me the slip the second time!”
+
+“Good!” said Fentress, and took his leave.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“Well, Captain, what's doing?” he asked, as he shook hands with Murrell.
+
+“I've been waiting for you, Hues,” said Murrell. He continued, “I reckon
+the time's here when nothing will be gained by delay.”
+
+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.
+
+“You mean?”
+
+“If anything's to be done, now is the time. What have you to report?”
+
+“Well, I've seen the council of each Clan division. They are ripe to
+start this thing off.”
+
+Murrell gave him a moment of moody regard.
+
+“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.
+
+“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!”
+
+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.
+
+“What do you expect to do for yourself?” he demanded. The other laughed
+shortly.
+
+“Captain, I'm going to get rich while I have the chance. Ain't that what
+we are all after?”
+
+“How?” inquired Murrell quietly. Hues shifted his seat.
+
+“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.
+
+“Hues, you must start back across Tennessee. Make it Sunday at
+midnight--that's three days off.” Unconsciously his voice sank to a
+whisper.
+
+“Sunday at midnight,” repeated Hues slowly.
+
+“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.”
+
+“Quit the country! Why, Captain, who's talking of quitting the country?”
+
+“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!”
+
+“No, you're right, it won't!” and again Hues gave way to easy laughter.
+
+“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!”
+
+“And then it's change your name and strike out for Texas with what
+you've picked up!”
+
+“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!”
+
+Hues had kindled with a ready enthusiasm while Murrell was speaking.
+
+“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!”
+
+“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.
+
+“When do you start south?” asked Hues quickly.
+
+“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.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV. THE JUDGE EXTENDS HIS CREDIT
+
+
+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.'
+
+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.
+
+“You mean she needs a lawyer, Price?” insinuated Mahaffy.
+
+“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!”
+
+“Are you looking for some one to take a pot shot at you?” inquired
+Mahaffy sourly.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“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--”
+
+“You might ask her,” said Mahaffy cynically. “Nothing like going to
+headquarters for the news!”
+
+“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!”
+
+“Wouldn't charity hit nearer the mark, Price?”
+
+“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!”
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“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!”
+
+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.
+
+“Did you walk out, Judge Price?” asked Betty kindly.
+
+“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.
+
+“But you must let me order luncheon for you,” said Betty. At least this
+questionable old man was good to Hannibal.
+
+“I couldn't think of it, ma'am--”
+
+“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.
+
+The judge paused abruptly. He endured a moment of agonizing
+irresolution.
+
+“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!
+
+“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.
+
+“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.”
+
+Little Steve reappeared bearing a silver tray on which was a decanter
+and glass.
+
+“Since you insist, ma'am,” the judge poured himself a drink, “my best
+respects--” he bowed profoundly.
+
+“If you are quite willing, judge, I think I will keep Hannibal. Miss
+Bowen, who has been here--since--” her voice broke suddenly.
+
+“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?”
+
+“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.”
+
+It had occurred to Betty that she had done little or nothing for the
+child; probably this would be her last opportunity.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The judge explained the situation.
+
+“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!”
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI. BETTY LEAVES BELLE PLAIN
+
+
+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.
+
+“Why, where would Judge Price get so much money, Hannibal?” she asked,
+greatly astonished.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“Is he as poor as he seems, Hannibal?” inquired Betty.
+
+“He never has no money, Miss Betty, but I don't reckon he's what a body
+would call pore.”
+
+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.
+
+“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?”
+
+“Never, Miss Betty; honest!”
+
+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.
+
+“What kind of a man is Mr. Mahaffy, Hannibal?”
+
+“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.”
+
+“Does he--drink, too, Hannibal?” questioned Betty.
+
+“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.
+
+“But, no matter what they do, they are very, very kind to you?” she
+continued quite tremulously.
+
+“Yes, ma'am--why, Miss Betty, they're lovely men!”
+
+“And do you ever hear the things spoken of you learned about at Mrs.
+Ferris' Sunday-school?”
+
+“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.
+
+“Does he have you go to Sunday-school in Raleigh?”
+
+The boy shook his head.
+
+“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?”
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“You shall have my books--the books I learned to read out of when I was
+a little girl, Hannibal!”
+
+“I like learning from the label pretty well,” said Hannibal loyally.
+
+“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.”
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“Why, Hannibal, you are crying--what about, dear?” asked Betty suddenly.
+
+“No, ma'am; I ain't crying,” said Hannibal stoutly, but his wet lashes
+gave the lie to his words.
+
+“Are you homesick--do you wish to go back to the judge and Mr. Mahaffy?”
+
+“No, ma'am--it ain't that--I was just thinking--”
+
+“Thinking about what, dear?”
+
+“About my Uncle Bob.” The small face was very wistful.
+
+“Oh--and you still miss him so much, Hannibal?”
+
+“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!”
+
+“That does make a great difference, doesn't it?” agreed Betty sadly, and
+two piteous tearful eyes were bent upon him.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.”
+
+“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?”
+
+“Yes, Hannibal; any day or hour!”
+
+“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.
+
+“It empties into the river,” answered Betty.
+
+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.
+
+“Why, you got a boat, ain't you, Miss Betty?” This was a charming and an
+important discovery.
+
+“Would you like to go down to it?” inquired Betty.
+
+“'Deed I would! Does she leak any, Miss Betty?”
+
+“I don't know about that. Do boats usually leak, Hannibal?”
+
+“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.
+
+“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?”
+
+“What use is she if you don't go rowing in her?” persisted Hannibal.
+
+“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.”
+
+“Like I should take you out in her, Miss Betty?” demanded Hannibal with
+palpitating anxiety.
+
+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.
+
+“Didn't you hear something, Hannibal?” she whispered fearfully.
+
+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.
+
+“I think it's the overseer's niece,” she told Hannibal, and they kept on
+toward the boat.
+
+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.
+
+“Good evening!” said Betty pleasantly.
+
+The girl made no reply to this; she merely regarded Betty with a fixed
+stare. At length she broke silence abruptly.
+
+“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.
+
+“You are Bess Hicks,” said Betty.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+“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!”
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“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!”
+
+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.
+
+“Don't be so scared; I reckon Belle Plain's as good as his if anything
+happened to you?”
+
+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.
+
+“Perhaps you will stop this sort of talk, and tell me what is going to
+happen to me--if you know?” she said quietly.
+
+“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.
+
+“What do you mean?” faltered Betty.
+
+“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!”
+
+“This is absurd--you are trying to frighten me!”
+
+“Did they stop with trying to frighten Charley Norton?” demanded Bess
+with harsh insistence.
+
+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.
+
+“You have been waiting some time to see me?” she asked.
+
+“Ever since along about noon.”
+
+“You were afraid to come to the house?”
+
+“I didn't want to be seen there.”
+
+“And yet you knew I was alone.”
+
+“Alone--but how do you know who's watching the place?”
+
+“Do you think there was reason to be afraid of that?” asked Betty.
+
+Again the girl stamped her foot with angry impatience.
+
+“You're just wastin' time--just foolin' it away--and you ain't got none
+to spare!”
+
+“You must tell me what I have to fear--I must know more or I shall stay
+just where I am!”
+
+“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--”
+
+“Of whom are you speaking?”
+
+“He'll have you away from here to-night!”
+
+“He?... who?... and what if I refuse to go?”
+
+“Did they ask Charley Norton whether he wanted to live or die?” came the
+sinister question.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“Come--come quick, Hannibal!” she gasped out, and seized his hand.
+
+“What is it, Miss Betty? What's the matter?” asked Hannibal as they fled
+panting up the terraces.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+“Don't you trust your niggers, Miss Betty?” he whispered as they went
+from the room.
+
+“I only trust you, dear!”
+
+“What makes you go? Was it something that woman told you? Are they
+coming after us, Miss Betty? Is it Captain Murrell?”
+
+“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.
+
+“Don't you be scared, Miss Betty!” said Hannibal.
+
+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.
+
+“Do you reckon it were Captain Murrell shot Mr. Norton, Miss Betty?”
+ asked Hannibal in a shuddering whisper.
+
+“Hush--Oh, hush, Hannibal! It is too awful to even speak of--” and,
+sobbing and half hysterical, she covered her face with her hands.
+
+“But where are we going, Miss Betty?” asked the boy.
+
+“I don't know, dear!” she had an agonizing sense of the night's approach
+and of her own utter helplessness.
+
+“I'll tell you what, Miss Betty, let's go to the judge and Mr. Mahaffy!”
+ said Hannibal.
+
+“Judge Price?” She had not thought of him as a possible protector.
+
+“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.”
+
+Betty suddenly remembered the carriage which had taken the judge into
+town; she was sure it had not yet returned.
+
+“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.”
+
+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.
+
+“Hannibal, I don't want to tell the judge why I am leaving Belle
+Plain--about the woman, I mean,” said Betty.
+
+“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.
+
+“Hark!” she whispered.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“You don't think the carriage could have passed us while we were
+crossing the corn-field?” said Betty.
+
+“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.
+
+“George!” cried Betty, a world of relief in her tones.
+
+“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.
+
+“George--”
+
+“Oh, it you, Missy?”
+
+“Yes, I wish you to drive me into Raleigh,” said Betty, and she and
+Hannibal entered the carriage.
+
+“All right, Missy. Yo'-all ready fo' me to go along out o' here?”
+
+“Yes--drive fast, George!” urged Betty.
+
+“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!”
+
+The carriage swung forward for perhaps a hundred yards, then suddenly
+the horses came to a dead stop.
+
+“Go along on, dar!” cried George, and struck them with his whip, but the
+horses only reared and plunged.
+
+“Hold on, nigger!” said a rough voice out of the darkness.
+
+“What yo' doin'?” the coachman gasped. “Don' yo' know dis de Belle Plain
+carriage? Take yo' han's offen to dem hosses' bits!”
+
+Two men stepped to the side of the carriage.
+
+“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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII. PRISONERS
+
+
+In the face of Betty's indignant protest Slosson and the man named
+Bunker climbed into the carriage.
+
+“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.”
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“Get down, ma'am!” said the latter.
+
+“Where are you taking me?” asked Betty, in a voice that shook in spite
+of her efforts to control it.
+
+“You must hurry, ma'am,” urged Slosson impatiently.
+
+“I won't move until I know where you intend taking me!” said Betty, “If
+I am to die--”
+
+Mr. Slosson laughed loudly and indulgently.
+
+“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!”
+
+“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.
+
+Slosson gave a start of astonishment at this.
+
+“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!”
+
+Again Bunker swore, while Jim told Slosson to make haste. This popular
+clamor served to recall the tavernkeeper to a sense of duty.
+
+“Ma'am, like I should tote you, or will you walk?” he inquired, and
+reaching out his hand took hold of Betty.
+
+“I'll walk,” said the girl quickly, shrinking from the contact.
+
+“Keep close at my heels. Bunker, you tuck along after her with the boy.”
+
+“What about this nigger?” asked the fourth man.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.”
+
+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.”
+
+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.
+
+“Step in, ma'am,” he said, when he had launched it.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.”
+
+“Where are you taking me?” and Betty's voice faltered between the sudden
+sobs that choked her.
+
+“Just across to George Hicks's.”
+
+“For what purpose?”
+
+“You'll know in plenty of time.” And Slosson leered at her through the
+darkness.
+
+“Hannibal is to go with me?” asked Betty tremulously.
+
+“Sure!” agreed Slosson affably. “Your nigger, too--quite a party.”
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“Here's yo' guests, old lady!” said Mr. Slosson. Mrs. Hicks rose from
+the three-legged stool on which she was sitting.
+
+“Hand me the candle, Bess,” she ordered.
+
+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.
+
+“In yonder!” she said briefly, nodding toward the door.
+
+“Wait!” cried Betty in a whisper.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+“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.”
+
+“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.
+
+“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.”
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+“Very soon now, dear.” Hannibal was greatly consoled by this opinion.
+
+“Miss Betty, he will love to find us--”
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“Betty!” the single word fell softly from his lips. He stepped into the
+room, closing the door as he did so.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“Don't come near me!” cried Betty. Her eyes blazed, and she looked at
+him with' loathing.
+
+“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.
+
+“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--”
+
+“Never!” gasped Betty.
+
+“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.
+
+“Let me go!” she panted. He laughed his cool laugh of triumph.
+
+“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--”
+
+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.
+
+“Well?” said Murrell, when they stood together on the landing.
+
+“Just come across to the keel boat!” and Slosson led the way down the
+stairs and from the house.
+
+“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,
+
+“I stayed in Memphis until five o'clock this morning.”
+
+“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?”
+
+“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.
+
+“Hicks raised the alarm the first thing this morning, according to the
+instructions I'd given him.”
+
+“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.
+
+“You haven't been at Belle Plain, you say, but has any one seen you on
+the road this morning?”
+
+“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.
+
+“I understand there is talk of suicide,” he said.
+
+“Good!” cried Ware.
+
+“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.
+
+“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!”
+
+“She'll be sent down river to-night,” said Murrell.
+
+“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?”
+
+“Soon,” replied Murrell. Slosson laughed.
+
+“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.”
+
+“There can be no hitch,” rasped out Murrell arrogantly.
+
+“I never knew a speculation that couldn't go wrong; and by rights we
+should have got away last night.”
+
+“Well, whose fault is it you didn't?” demanded Murrell.
+
+“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.”
+
+“Well?” prompted Murrell, with a sullen frown.
+
+“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.”
+
+“I'll send a man to take charge of the keel boat. I can't risk any more
+of your bungling, Joe.”
+
+“That's all right, but you don't answer my question,” persisted Slosson,
+with admirable tenacity of purpose.
+
+“What is your question, Joe?”
+
+“A lot can happen between this and midnight--”
+
+“If things go wrong with us there'll be a blaze at the head of the
+bayou; does that satisfy you?”
+
+“And what then?”
+
+Murrell hesitated.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“Who'll he be?”
+
+“Some fellow who knows the river.”
+
+“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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII. THE JUDGE MEETS THE SITUATION
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The judge sighed deeply. He took up the jug and inverted it. A stray
+drop or so fell languidly into his glass.
+
+“Try squeezing it, Price,” said Mahaffy.
+
+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.
+
+“I wonder no Yankee has ever thought to invent a jug with a glass
+bottom,” he observed.
+
+“What for?” asked Mahaffy.
+
+“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?”
+
+But Mahaffy's expression indicated no great confidence in Mr. Pegloe's
+confidence.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+“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!”
+
+“Where have they gone?” asked Mahaffy, and his long jaw dropped.
+
+“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.”
+
+Mahaffy jerked out an oath, and lifting himself off his chair, stood
+erect. He snatched up his hat.
+
+“Stuff your pistols into your pockets, and come on, Price!” he said, and
+stalked toward the door.
+
+He flitted up the street, and the judge puffed and panted in his wake.
+They gained the edge of the village without speech.
+
+“There is mystery and rascality here!” said the judge.
+
+“What do you know, Price, and where did you hear this?” Mahaffy shot the
+question back over his shoulder.
+
+“At Pegloe's, the Belle Plain overseer had just fetched the news into
+town.”
+
+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.
+
+“You're just ripe for apoplexy, Price!” he snarled, moderating his pace.
+
+“Go on,” said the judge, with stolid resolution.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+“What could happen to him, Price?” asked Mahaffy.
+
+“God knows, poor little lad!”
+
+“Will you shut up!” cried Mahaffy savagely.
+
+“Solomon!”
+
+“Why do you go building on that idea? Why should any one harm him--what
+earthly purpose--”
+
+“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.”
+
+“What did the overseer say?”
+
+“Just that they found Miss Malroy gone from Belle Plain this morning,
+and the boy with her.”
+
+“This is like you, Price! How do you know they haven't spent the night
+at some neighbor's?”
+
+“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.
+
+“What are you going to do first, Price?”
+
+“Have a look over the grounds, and talk with the slaves.”
+
+“Where's the brother--wasn't he at Belle Plain last night?”
+
+“It seems he went to Memphis yesterday.”
+
+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.
+
+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,
+
+“Miss Malroy's lawyer.”
+
+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.
+
+“Has Mr. Ware returned from Memphis?” he asked of Steve.
+
+“No, Sah; not yet.”
+
+“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.”
+
+“Yes, Sah.” And Steve withdrew.
+
+The judge drew an easy-chair up to the flat-topped desk that stood in
+the center of the room, and seated himself.
+
+“Are you going to make this the excuse for another drunk, Price? If so,
+I feel the greatest contempt for you,” said Mahaffy sternly.
+
+The judge winced at this.
+
+“You have made a regrettable choice of words, Solomon,” he urged gently.
+
+“Where's your feeling for the boy?”
+
+“Here!” said the judge, with an eloquent gesture, resting his hand on
+his heart.
+
+“If you let whisky alone, I'll believe you, otherwise what I have said
+must stand.”
+
+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.
+
+“Morning,” he said briefly.
+
+“Sit down, Sheriff,” and the judge indicated a meek seat for the
+official in a distant corner. “Have you learned anything?” he asked.
+
+The sheriff shook his head.
+
+“What you turning all these neighbors out of doors for?” he questioned.
+
+“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?”
+
+“Oh, I've talked with them, they don't know nothing,” said the sheriff.
+“No one don't know nothing.”
+
+“Please God, we may yet put our fingers on some villain who does,” said
+the judge.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“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?”
+
+“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.”
+
+“He joined in the search?”
+
+“Yes, Sah.''
+
+“When was Miss Malroy seen last?” asked the judge.
+
+“She and the young gemman you fotched heah were seen in the gyarden
+along about sundown. I seen them myself.”
+
+“They had had supper?”
+
+“Yes, Sah.”
+
+“Who sleeps here?”
+
+“Just little Steve and three of the women, they sleeps at the back of
+the house, Sah.''
+
+“No sounds were heard during the night?”
+
+“No, Sah.”
+
+“I'll see the overseer--what's his name?--Hicks? Suppose you go for
+him!” said the judge, addressing the sheriff.
+
+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.
+
+“Why?” inquired the judge.
+
+“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.”
+
+“How does he explain the boy's disappearance?”
+
+“He reckons she throwed herself in, and the boy tried to drag her out,
+like he naturally would, and got drawed in.”
+
+“Humph! I'll trouble Mr. Hicks to step here,” said the judge quietly.
+
+“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.
+
+“I'll see them.” The sheriff went from the room and the judge dismissed
+the servants.
+
+“Well, what do you think, Price?” asked Mahaffy anxiously when they were
+alone.
+
+“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.”
+
+Mahaffy was clearly not impressed by the vague generalities in which the
+judge was dealing.
+
+“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?”
+
+“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.”
+
+“Well, what do you want to see Hicks for? What do you expect to learn
+from him?”
+
+“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.”
+
+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.
+
+“A shocking condition of affairs, Mr. Carrington!” said the judge by way
+of greeting.
+
+“Yes,” said Carrington shortly.
+
+“You left these parts some time ago, I believe?” continued the judge.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+“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.”
+
+The judge started to his feet.
+
+“Bob Yancy?” he cried.
+
+“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.
+
+“Please God we'll recover him soon!” said the judge.
+
+By the window Carrington moved impatiently. No harm could come to the
+boy, but Betty--a shudder went through him.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.”
+
+Carrington, no longer able to control himself, swung about on his heel.
+
+“What's been done?” he asked, with fierce repression. “What's going to
+be done? Don't you know that every second is precious?”
+
+“I am about to conclude my investigations, sir,” said the judge with
+dignity.
+
+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.
+
+As the door closed on him the judge turned again to the Scratch Hiller.
+
+“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.
+
+“I reckon you-all have been mighty good and kind to him,” said Yancy
+huskily.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“Price, isn't it important for us to know why Mr. Yancy thinks the boy
+has been taken back to North Carolina?” said Mahaffy.
+
+“Just what kin is Hannibal to you, Mr. Yancy?” asked the judge resuming
+his seat.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+“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!”
+
+“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.
+
+The judge drummed idly on the desk.
+
+“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.
+
+“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?”
+
+“Never, sir. All my troubles began about that time.”
+
+“Murrell belongs in these parts,” said the judge.
+
+“I'd admire fo' to meet him,” said Yancy quietly.
+
+The judge grinned.
+
+“I place my professional services at your disposal,” he said. “Yours is
+a clear case of felonious assault.”
+
+“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!”
+
+“Sir,” said the judge, “I'll hold your hat while you are about it!”
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+“Ain't it?” agreed Hicks. “What you got to say to me?” he added
+petulantly.
+
+“Have you started to drag the bayou?” asked the judge. Hicks nodded.
+“That was your idea?” suggested the judge.
+
+“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--”
+
+“How?” inquired the judge, arching his eyebrows. Hicks was plainly
+disturbed by the question.
+
+“Sort of out of her head. Mr. Ware seen it, too--”
+
+“He spoke of it?”
+
+“Yes, sir; him and me discussed it together.”
+
+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?
+
+“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.
+
+“I don't talk to no niggers,” replied Hicks, “except to give 'em my
+orders.”
+
+“Well, did you give them that order?”
+
+“No, I didn't.”
+
+The sudden and hurried entrance of big Steve brought the judge's
+examination of Mr. Hicks to a standstill.
+
+“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.
+
+“Well, what of that?” cried Hicks quickly.
+
+“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.”
+
+“Yes.” interrupted Hicks uneasily; “put a pair of lines in a nigger's
+hands and he'll run any team off its legs!”
+
+“An' the kerriage all scratched up from bein' thrashed through the
+bushes,” added Steve.
+
+“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!”
+
+“Ah!” said the judge softly. “Then you knew this?”
+
+“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!”
+
+“Do you know when and under what circumstances the team was stabled, Mr.
+Hicks?” inquired the judge.
+
+“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.
+
+“And no one saw or heard the team drive in?”
+
+“Not as I know of,” said Hicks.
+
+“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.
+
+Hicks started violently at this piece of news.
+
+“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.”
+
+The judge was lost in thought. He permitted an interval of silence to
+elapse in which Hicks' glance slid round in a furtive circle.
+
+“When did Mr. Ware set out for Memphis?” asked the judge at length.
+
+“Early yesterday. He goes there pretty often on business.”
+
+“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?”
+
+“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.
+
+“I should imagine they would absorb every moment of your time, Mr.
+Hicks,” he agreed affably.
+
+“A man's got to be a hog for work to hold a job like mine,” said Hicks
+sourly.
+
+“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.
+
+“Look here, what right have you got to try and pump me?” cried Hicks.
+
+For no discernible reason Mr. Cavendish spat on his palms.
+
+“Mr. Hicks,” said the judge, urbane and gracious, “I believe in
+frankness.”
+
+“Sure,” agreed Hicks, mollified by the judge's altered tone.
+
+“Therefore I do not hesitate to say that I consider you a damned
+scoundrel!” concluded the judge.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“What do you want to know, judge?” cried Cavendish, panting from his
+exertions. “I'll learn this parrot to talk up!”
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“I don't know anything about Miss Betty,” said Hicks in a sullen
+whisper.
+
+“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.
+
+“You didn't ask me about him,” said Hicks quickly.
+
+“I do now,” said the judge.
+
+“He was here yesterday.”
+
+“Mr. Cavendish--” and again the judge glanced toward the knife.
+
+“Wait!” cried Hicks. “You go to Colonel Fentress.”
+
+“Let him up, Mr. Cavendish; that's all we want to mow,” said the judge.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX. COLONEL FENTRESS
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“Who is it?” he asked.
+
+“Judge Price--Colonel Fentress'' said the judge.
+
+“Judge Price,” uncertainly, and still advancing.
+
+“I had flattered myself that you must have heard of me,” said the judge.
+
+“I think I have,” said Fentress, pausing now.
+
+“He thinks he has!” muttered the judge under his breath.
+
+“Will you come in?” it was more a question than an invitation.
+
+“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.
+
+“Will you step into the library?”
+
+“Very good,” and the judge followed the colonel briskly down the hall.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+“Ten years.”
+
+“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.
+
+“What's all this to me?” The words came with a gasp from Fentress'
+twitching lips. The judge looked at him moody and frowning.
+
+“I have reason to think this man Gatewood came to west Tennessee,” he
+said.
+
+“If so, I have never heard of him.”
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+“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!”
+
+There was another silence.
+
+“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.
+
+“What's all this to me?” asked Fentress.
+
+“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.”
+
+“This is nothing to me,” said Fentress.
+
+“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?”
+
+But Fentress' expression never altered. The judge fell back a step.
+
+“Fentress, I want the boy,” he said quietly.
+
+“What boy?”
+
+“My grandson.”
+
+“You are mad! What do I know of him--or you?” Fentress was gaining
+courage from the sound of his own voice.
+
+“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.”
+
+“You're mad!” repeated Fentress.
+
+“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.
+
+“I know nothing about the boy,” said Fentress slowly.
+
+“By God, you lie!” stormed the judge.
+
+“I know nothing about the boy,” and Fentress took a step toward the
+door.
+
+“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!”
+
+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.
+
+“I tell you I had no hand in carrying off the boy,” said Fentress with a
+sardonic smile.
+
+“I look to you to return him. Stir yourself, Gatewood, or by God, I'll
+hold so fierce a reckoning with you--”
+
+The sentence remained unfinished, for Fentress felt his overwrought
+nerves snap, and giving way to a sudden blind fury struck at the judge.
+
+“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.
+
+“To-morrow morning at sun-up at Boggs' racetrack!” cried Fentress. The
+judge bowed with splendid courtesy.
+
+“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.
+
+His three friends followed in his steps, leaving Fentress standing by
+the table, the ghost of a smile on his thin lips.
+
+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.
+
+“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.”
+
+“Think of that!” said Yancy, as much overwhelmed by the judge's manner
+as by his words.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“Mine!” he muttered. “The clothes he stands in, the food he eats--mine!
+Mine!”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX. THE BUBBLE BURSTS
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+“Hues!” cried Murrell in astonishment, for the man confronting him was
+the Clan's messenger who should have been speeding across the state.
+
+“Toss up your hands, Murrell,” said Hues quietly.
+
+One of the other men spoke.
+
+“You are under arrest!”
+
+“Arrest!”
+
+“You are wanted for nigger-stealing,” said the man. Still Murrell did
+not seem to comprehend. He looked at Hues in dull wonder.
+
+“What are you doing here?” he asked.
+
+“Waiting to arrest you--ain't that plain?” said Hues, with a grim smile.
+
+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.
+
+“Well, by thunder!” cried the man in utter amazement.
+
+Murrell looked into Hues' face.
+
+“You--you--” and the words thickened on his tongue becoming an
+inarticulate murmur.
+
+“It's all up, John,” said Hues.
+
+“No!” said Murrell, recovering himself. “You may as well turn me
+loose--you can't arrest me!”
+
+“I've done it,” answered Hues, with a laugh. “I've been on your track
+for six months.”
+
+“How about this fellow?” asked the man, whose pistol still covered Ware.
+Hues glanced toward the planter and shook his head.
+
+“Where are you going to take me?” asked Murrell quickly. Again Hues
+laughed.
+
+“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!”
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+“Ware!” he cried.
+
+“How are you, Carrington?” said the planter.
+
+“You are wanted at Belle Plain,” began Carrington, and seemed to
+hesitate.
+
+“Yes--yes, I am going there at once--now--” stammered Ware, and gathered
+up his reins with a shaking hand.
+
+“You've heard, I take it?” said Carrington slowly.
+
+“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.
+
+“I think I understand your feeling,” said Carrington, giving him a level
+glance.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“If he wants to see me why don't he come here?” he growled.
+
+“I reckon that old fellow they call Judge Price has sprung something
+sudden on the colonel,” said Hicks.
+
+“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.”
+
+“Murrell's been arrested,” said Ware in a dull level voice. Hicks gave
+him a glance of unmixed astonishment.
+
+“No!” he cried.
+
+“Yes, by God!”
+
+“Who'd risk it?”
+
+“Risk it? Man, he almost fainted dead away--a damned coward. Hell!”
+
+“How do you know this?” asked Hicks, appalled.
+
+“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!”
+
+“The jail ain't built that'll hold him!!” muttered Hicks.
+
+“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.
+
+“Where did they carry the captain?” inquired Hicks.
+
+“I don't know.”
+
+“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.
+
+“How do you know that?” demanded Ware.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+“Do you get what I say, Tom? I am going to quit these parts,” said
+Hicks. Ware turned slowly from the window.
+
+“All right, Hicks. You mean you want me to settle with you, is that it?”
+ he asked.
+
+“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.”
+
+“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.
+
+“I'll take that chance. It seems a heap better to me than staying here.”
+
+Ware looked from the window. The shadows were lengthening across the
+lawn.
+
+“Better start now, Hicks,” he advised.
+
+“I'll wait until it turns dark.”
+
+“You'll need a horse.”
+
+“I was going to help myself to one. This ain't no time to stand on
+ceremony,” said Hicks shortly.
+
+“Slosson shouldn't be left in the lurch like this--or your brother's
+folks--”
+
+“They'll have to figure it out for themselves same as me,” rejoined
+Hicks.
+
+“You can stop there as you go by.”
+
+“No,” said Hicks; “I never did believe in this damn foolishness about
+the girl, and I won't go near George's--”
+
+“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.”
+
+Hicks' eyes sparkled, but he only said
+
+“Make it twice that and maybe we can deal.”
+
+Racked and tortured, Ware hesitated; but the sun was slipping into the
+west, his windows blazed with the hot light.
+
+“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.
+
+“Don't you want the fire lighted?” asked Hicks. He was familiar with his
+employer's vacillating moods.
+
+“Yes,” answered Ware, his lips quivering; and slowly, with shaking
+fingers, he added to the pile of bills in Hicks' hand.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI. THE KEEL BOAT
+
+
+“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.
+
+“Not a word, Solomon--it had to come. I am going to kill him. I shall
+feel better then.”
+
+“What if he kills you?” demanded Mahaffy harshly. The judge shrugged his
+shoulders.
+
+“That is as it may be.”
+
+“Have you forgotten your grandson?” Mahaffy's voice was still harsh and
+rasping.
+
+“I regard my meeting with Fentress as nothing less than a sacred duty to
+him.”
+
+“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.”
+
+“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.”
+
+“Price--”
+
+“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.”
+
+“Who's going to second you?” snapped Mahaffy.
+
+The judge was the picture of indifference.
+
+“It will be quite informal, the code is scarcely applicable; I merely
+intend to remove him because he is not fit to live.”
+
+“At sun-up!” muttered Mahaffy.
+
+“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.”
+
+Something very like laughter escaped from Mahaffy's lips.
+
+“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!”
+
+“It sounds well, Price, but where's the money coming from to push a
+lawsuit?”
+
+The judge waved this aside.
+
+“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.
+
+“It's good enough to think about, Price,” admitted Mahaffy grudgingly.
+
+“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!”
+
+“And you are going to meet Fentress in the morning?” asked Mahaffy. “I
+suppose there's no way of avoiding that?”
+
+“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'.”
+
+“And you will go there without a second?”
+
+“If necessary; yes.”
+
+“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!”
+
+The judge gave him an indulgent but superior smile.
+
+“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.”
+
+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.
+
+“Here, Solomon, take one of my pistols,” urged the judge hastily. “You
+may need it at Belle Plain. Goodby, and God bless you!”
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+“Betty!” The word leaped from his lips.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+“Joe! Oh, Joe!”
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“How yo' get here, Mas'r Ca'ington?” asked the negro guardedly, as the
+gag fell away.
+
+“Around the head of the bayou.”
+
+“Lawd!” exclaimed George, in a tone of wonder.
+
+“Where's Miss Betty?”
+
+“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.
+
+“You'll feel better in a moment. Tell me about Miss Malroy?”
+
+“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.”
+
+“Who were they, do you know?” asked Carrington.
+
+“Lawd--what's that?”
+
+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.
+
+“Hush!” he grimly warned.
+
+“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.
+
+“Then you reckon right,” answered Carrington. The girl studied him from
+beneath her level brows.
+
+“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!”
+
+“Don't be too sure of that,” said Carrington sternly. The girl met the
+menace of his words with soft, fullthroated laughter.
+
+“Why, yo' hand's shakin' now, Mr. Carrington!”
+
+“You know me?”
+
+“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!”
+
+Carrington hesitated.
+
+“Why do you want Miss Malroy to escape?” he said.
+
+The girl's mood changed abruptly. She scowled at him.
+
+“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.”
+
+“I'm ready,” said Carrington, his hand on the door.
+
+“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.”
+
+“Can you see Miss Malroy in the meantime?”
+
+“If I want to, they's nothin' to hinder me,” responded Bess sullenly.
+
+“Tell her then--” began Carrington, but Bess interrupted him.
+
+“I know what yo' want. She ain't to cry out or nothin' when she sees
+you-all. I got sense enough fo' that.”
+
+Carrington looked at her curiously.
+
+“This may be a serious business for your people,” he said significantly,
+and watched her narrowly.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“Yes, Mas'r.”
+
+“Then go down into the water and drag the canoe farther along the
+shore--and for God's sake, no sound!” he cautioned.
+
+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.
+
+“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.”
+
+“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.
+
+“Who were the letters for?” asked the Kentuckian, greatly surprised.
+
+“They was fo' that Captain Murrell; seems like him and Mas'r Tom was
+mixed up in a sight of business.”
+
+“When was this--recently?” inquired Carrington. He was turning this
+astonishing statement of the slave over in his mind.
+
+“Well, no, Mas'r; seems like they ain't so thick here recently.”
+
+“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.”
+
+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.
+
+“Who's there?” It was Bess who asked the question.
+
+“Carrington,” he answered.
+
+“Lucky you ain't met the other man!” she said as she swept her skiff
+alongside the bank.
+
+“Lucky for him, you mean. I'll take the oars,” added Carrington as he
+entered the skiff.
+
+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.
+
+“Hello!” he called.
+
+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.
+
+“What do you want?” asked a surly voice.
+
+“You want Slosson!” quickly prompted the girl in a whisper.
+
+“I want to see Slosson!” said Carrington glibly and with confidence, and
+once more he checked the skiff.
+
+“Who be you?”
+
+“Murrell sent you,” prompted the girl again, in a hurried whisper.
+
+“Murrell--” And in his astonishment Carrington spoke aloud.
+
+“Murrell?” cried the voice sharply.
+
+“--sent me!” said Carrington quickly, as though completing an unfinished
+sentence. The girl laughed nervously under her breath.
+
+“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:
+
+“Which one of you is Slosson?” And he sprang lightly aboard the keel
+boat.
+
+“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.
+
+“Miss Malroy is to be taken down river,” responded Carrington. Slosson
+swore with surpassing fluency.
+
+“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--”
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+“If I'd only pushed my quarrel with him!” he thought bitterly.
+
+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.
+
+“You're boss now, pardner!” he said, joining Carrington at the steering
+oar.
+
+“We'll cast off then,” answered Carrington.
+
+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.
+
+“I reckon you're a river-man?” observed Slosson.
+
+“All my life.”
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+“It narrows considerably, pardner, but it's a straight course,” said
+Slosson. “Black in yonder, ain't it?” he added, nodding ahead.
+
+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.
+
+“I reckon you ain't needing me?” he said.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+“That's what I'm trying to make out,” answered Carrington.
+
+“Hell!” cried Slosson, and tossed his gun to his shoulder.
+
+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.
+
+“Keep back, you!” he said, and dropped off the cabin roof.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“Sho--I bet it's him! Sho'--it's Uncle Bob's nevvy! Sho', you can hear
+'em! Sho', they're shootin' guns! Sho'!”
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Hannibal, who had climbed to the roof of the cabin, shrieked for help,
+and Betty added her voice to his.
+
+“All right, Nevvy!” came the cheerful reply, as Yancy threw himself over
+the side of the boat and grappled with Slosson.
+
+“Uncle Bob! Uncle Bob!” cried Hannibal.
+
+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.
+
+“You'll take a dog's licking from me, neighbor?” said Yancy grimly. “I
+been saving it fo' you!”
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+“Jump down here; that ain't no fittin' place for you-all to stop in with
+them gentlemen fightin'!”
+
+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.
+
+“Sho', they'd got him! Sho'--he wa'n't no bigger than Richard! Sho'!”
+
+“Oh!” cried Betty, with a fearful glance toward the keel boat. “Can't
+you stop them?”
+
+“What fo'?” asked Polly, opening her black eyes very wide.
+
+“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!”
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII. THE RAFT AGAIN
+
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+“Thank God, you got here when you did!” said Carrington.
+
+“We was some pushed fo' time, but we done it,” responded the earl
+modestly. He added, “What now?--do we make a landing?”
+
+“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?”
+
+“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.”
+
+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.
+
+“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!”
+
+“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.
+
+“We are none of us hurt, Betty,” he said gently, as he took her hand.
+
+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.
+
+“There, Betty, the danger is over now and you were so brave while it
+lasted. I can't bear to have you cry!”
+
+“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!”
+
+“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.”
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+But Betty shrank from him in involuntary agitation.
+
+“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.
+
+“Forgive me, Betty, I'll not speak of it again,” he said.
+
+“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:
+
+“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!”
+
+Betty made no answer in words, but a soft and eloquent little hand was
+slipped into his and allowed to rest there.
+
+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--
+
+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.
+
+“And you wa'n't dead, Uncle Bob?” said Hannibal with a deep breath,
+viewing Yancy unmistakably in the flesh.
+
+“Never once. I been floating peacefully along with these here titled
+friends of mine; but I was some anxious about you, son.”
+
+“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.
+
+Mr. Yancy extended a big right hand, the knuckle of which was skinned
+and bruised.
+
+“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.”
+
+“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.
+
+“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!”
+
+“What was it about Mr. Slosson's hide, Uncle Bob?” demanded Hannibal.
+“What was you a-goin' to do to that?”
+
+“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.”
+
+“And you seen the judge, Uncle Bob?” questioned Hannibal.
+
+“Yes, I've seen the judge. We was together fo' part of a day. Me and him
+gets on fine.”
+
+“Where is he now, Uncle Bob?”
+
+“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.”
+
+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.
+
+“Uncle Bob, who'm I going to live with now?” questioned Hannibal
+anxiously.
+
+“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.”
+
+“But what about you, Uncle Bob?” cried Hannibal, lifting a wistful
+little face to Yancy's.
+
+“Oh, me?--well, you-all will go right on living with me.”
+
+“And what will come of Mr. Mahaffy?”
+
+“I reckon you-all will go right on living with him, too.”
+
+“Uncle Bob, you mean you reckon we are all going to live in one house?”
+
+“I 'low it will have to be fixed that-a-ways,” agreed Yancy.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII. THE JUDGE RECEIVES A LETTER
+
+
+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.
+
+Half an hour later Mr. Wesley, the postmaster, came sauntering up the
+street. In his hand he carried a letter.
+
+“Howdy,” he drawled, from just beyond the judge's open door.
+
+The judge glanced up, his quill pen poised aloft.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.”
+
+“There is something in that, too,” agreed Mr. Wesley. “Who is Colonel
+Slocum Price Turberville?”
+
+The judge started up from his chair.
+
+“I have that honor,” said he, bowing.
+
+“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.”
+
+“What point, may I ask?”
+
+“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!”
+
+“Certainly not,” agreed the judge.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“And do you know Old Hickory?” cried Mr. Wesley.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+“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!
+
+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.
+
+Once again he reached for his hat, the desire to rush off to Belle Plain
+was overmastering.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+“I had other things to think of. This must never happen again!” he told
+himself remorsefully.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+He was aghast. It was a plot to discredit him. Pegloe's hospitality had
+been inspired by his enemy, for Pegloe was Fentress' tenant.
+
+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.
+
+“Unless I get out of here in time I'm a ruined man!” thought the judge.
+“After this Fentress will refuse to meet me!”
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV. THE DUEL
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“Fools!” thought Mahaffy bitterly. “All of them fools!”
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“Price!” he called, but this gained him no response, and he cursed
+softly under his breath.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“Why are we waiting, sir?” he demanded, his tone cold and formal.
+
+“Something has occurred to detain Price,” answered Mahaffy.
+
+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.
+
+“Do you know what could have detained him?” he inquired, the ghost of a
+smile curling his thin lips.
+
+“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.
+
+Another interval of waiting succeeded.
+
+“I have about reached the end of my patience; I shall wait just ten
+minutes longer,” said Fentress, and drew out his watch.
+
+“Something has happened--” began Mahaffy.
+
+“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.”
+
+“Wait!” said Mahaffy, planting himself squarely before Fentress.
+
+“I consider this comic episode at an end,” and Fentress pocketed his
+watch.
+
+“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.
+
+The colonel's face paled and colored by turns.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.”
+
+Mr. Ware accepted this statement with equanimity, not to say
+indifference.
+
+“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.
+
+“Yes,” said Mahaffy tersely.
+
+“Well, listen: I shall count, one, two, three; at the word three you
+will fire. Now take your positions.”
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“It's Price--” he gasped, his words bathed in blood, and he pitched
+forward on his face.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“Solomon! Solomon!” And the judge knelt beside him.
+
+“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.
+
+In very shame the judge hid his face in his hands, while sobs shook him.
+
+“Solomon--Solomon, why did you do this?” he cried miserably.
+
+The harsh lines on the dying man's face erased themselves.
+
+“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.
+
+Again the judge buried his face in his hands.
+
+“I know it, Solomon--I know it!” he moaned wretchedly.
+
+“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.”
+
+“I will--by God, I will!” gasped the judge. “You hear me? You hear me,
+Solomon? By God's good help, I will!”
+
+“You have the president's letter--I saw it,” said Mahaffy in a whisper.
+
+“Yes!” cried the judge. “Solomon, the world is changing for us!”
+
+“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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV. A CRISIS AT THE COURT-HOUSE
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“Judge, what makes Mr. Mahaffy lie so quiet--is he dead?” he asked in a
+whisper.
+
+“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.
+
+“Uncle Bob fetched me,” said Hannibal. “He's down-stairs, but he didn't
+tell me Mr. Mahaffy was dead-”
+
+“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.”
+
+Hannibal instantly sat erect and looked up at the judge, his blue eyes
+wide with amazement at this extraordinary statement.
+
+“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.
+
+“I am glad if you are my grandfather, judge,” said Hannibal very
+gravely. “I always liked you.”
+
+“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.
+
+“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.”
+
+“Do you mean we ain't going to be pore any longer, grandfather?” asked
+Hannibal.
+
+The judge regarded him with infinite tenderness of expression; he was
+profoundly moved.
+
+“Would you mind saying that again, dear lad?”
+
+“Do you mean we ain't going to be pore any longer, grandfather?”
+ repeated Hannibal.
+
+“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.”
+
+“Will Uncle Bob be rich too?” inquired Hannibal.
+
+“Certainly. How can he be poor when we possess wealth?” answered the
+judge.
+
+“You reckon he will always live with us, don't you, grandfather?”
+
+“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.
+
+“Uncle Bob told me Mr. Mahaffy got hurt in a duel, grandfather?” said
+Hannibal.
+
+“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.”
+
+Presently Hannibal was deep in his account of those adventures he had
+shared with Miss Betty.
+
+“And Miss Malroy--where is she now?” asked the judge, in the first pause
+of the boy's narrative.
+
+“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?”
+
+“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.”
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“Dress!” he said briefly. “There's every prospect of trouble--get your
+rifle and come with me!”
+
+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.
+
+“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--”
+
+“Yes?” said Yancy.
+
+“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!”
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.”
+
+“You are willing to assume the responsibility of throwing open these
+doors?” inquired the judge affably.
+
+“I shorely am,” said Betts. “Why, some of these folks are our leading
+people!”
+
+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.”
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+“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!”
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“Don't let him speak!” cried a voice, and a tumult succeeded.
+
+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.
+
+“Don't let him speak! Kill him! Kill him!”
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“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?”
+
+“Yonder, Colonel, by the captain,” said Betts.
+
+“I have a warrant for his arrest. You will take him into custody.”
+
+“Wait!” cried the judge. “I represent Mr. Hues. I desire to see that
+warrant!”
+
+But Fentress ignored him. He addressed the crowded benches.
+
+“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.”
+
+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.
+
+“Mr. Sheriff!” he called sharply.
+
+“All right, Colonel!”
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“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.
+
+“It's a lie!” cried the colonel.
+
+“You'll answer for that later!” said the judge, with abrupt austerity of
+tone.
+
+“For all we know you may be some fugitive from justice! Why, your name
+isn't Price!”
+
+“Are you sure of that?” asked the judge quickly.
+
+“You're an impostor! Your name is Turberville!”
+
+“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!”
+
+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.
+
+“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!”
+
+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.
+
+“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!”
+
+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.
+
+“Look out--he's getting ready to shoot!” cried a frightened voice.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI. THE END AND THE BEGINNING
+
+
+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.
+
+“You reckon he means near all he says?” he had asked, his fat sides
+shaking.
+
+“I'd take his word a heap quicker than I would most folks,” answered Mr.
+Saul with conviction.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“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.
+
+“I reckon he will, Betty,” responded Carrington. Unfavorable as had
+been his original estimate of the judge's character, events had greatly
+modified it.
+
+“He really seems quite sure, doesn't he?” said Betty.
+
+“There's not a doubt in his mind,” agreed Carrington.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“I am going to miss Hannibal dreadfully--yes, and the judge, and Mr.
+Yancy!” she began.
+
+“And when I leave--how about me, Betty?” Carrington asked unexpectedly,
+but he only had in mind leaving Belle Plain.
+
+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.
+
+“I am to be missed, too, am I, Betty?” he inquired, leaning toward her.
+
+“You, Bruce?--Oh, I shall miss you, too--dreadfully--but then, perhaps
+in five years, when you come back--”
+
+“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.
+
+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.
+
+“When you come back in three years, Bruce--”
+
+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.
+
+“Three years, Betty?” he repeated again.
+
+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.
+
+“Three years, Betty?” he prompted.
+
+“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--”
+
+Carrington slipped from the saddle and stood at her side.
+
+“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.
+
+“It was the Purchase--you were going there!” she cried.
+
+“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.
+
+“And then, Bruce--what?”
+
+“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!”
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+“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,
+
+“You will lay me beside him when I die.”
+
+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.
+
+“My salvation has been a costly thing; it was bought with the blood of
+my friend,” he told Yancy.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Prodigal Judge, by Vaughan Kester
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