s surging up from the bubbling surface of
the water. Long, dark, slim shadows were speeding through the woods,
with strange slants of yellow light; the very skies were a-flicker.
She cowered back for a moment, covering her face with her hands. Then,
affrighted at her own sorceries, she fled like a deer through the
wilderness.

VIII.

One by one, as the afternoon wore on, the spectators began to desert
the jury of view, their progress over the mountain being slower than
had been anticipated. So often, indeed, did insoluble difficulties
arise touching the location of the road and questions of dispute that
it might be wondered that the whole body did not perish by faction.
After the party had passed the boundary line of Persimmon Sneed's
tract, where he seemed to consider the right of eminent domain merged
in nothingness in comparison to his lordly prerogatives as owner in
fee simple, he ceased to urge as heretofore. He dictated boldly to the
jury. He rode briskly on in advance, as if doing the honors of his
estate to flattered guests, now and again waving his hand to
illustrate his proposition, his keen, high-pitched voice overcoming in
its distinct utterance the sound of hoofs and spurs, and the
monotonous bass contradictions proffered by Silas Boyd.

And the jury of view, silent and circumspect, rode discreetly on.

Persimmon Sneed's mare seemed as fresh as himself, and when he would
turn, as he often did, to face the fatigued, wilted, overwhelmed jury
jogging along on their jaded steeds, tired out with the long day's
jaunt and the rough footing, the mare would move swiftly backward in a
manner that would have done credit to the manege of a circus. And at
this extreme advantage Persimmon Sneed and his raised adjuring
forefinger seemed impossible to be gainsaid. His arguments partook of
the same unanswerable character.

"Ye don't see none o' my cattle, do ye?" He waved his hand toward the
woods flecked with the long slantings of the sun. "I hev got more 'n a
hunderd head grazin' right hyar in the bresh. Cattle-thieves could
call an' salt 'em easy enough, but they couldn't drive 'em off through
the laur'l thar; it's thick ez hell!" pointing to the dense jungle.
"But ef we-uns hed this hyar road what ye air aimin' ter lay off, why,
a leetle salt an' a leetle drivin' an' a moonlight night would gather
'em, an' the whole herd would be in Georgy by daybreak. I wouldn't hev
the hawn of a muley cow lef'. Now, ez it be,