body knows the
use of," broke out the irrepressible Nancy. "Andy and Jeff's in jail, and
some fool has tuck my little Pone along with the others."

Blatch flung a swift look at his uncle; but whatever his private
conviction, to dishonour a member of his tribe in the face of the enemy,
on the heels of defeat, was not what Jephthah Turrentine would do.

"The boys is likely held for witnesses, Jude allows," the elder explained
briefly. "You take one mule and I'll ride 'tother," he added. "I'll he'p
ye with the corn."

This was a great concession, and as such Blatchley accepted it.

"All right," he returned. "Much obliged."

Then he glanced unconcernedly at Judith, and, instead of making that
haste toward the corn-hauling activities which his manner had suggested,
moved loungingly up the steps. Beezy, from her sanctuary in Judith's lap,
viewed him with contemptuous disfavour. Her brother, not so safely
situated, made to pass the intruder, going wide like a shying colt.

With a sudden movement Blatchley caught the child by the shoulders. There
was a pantherlike quickness in the pounce that was somehow daunting from
an individual of this man's size and impassivity.

"Hold on thar, young feller," the newcomer remarked. "Whar you a-goin'
to, all in sech haste?"

"You turn me a-loose," panted the child. "I'm a-goin' over to my Jude."

"Oh, she's yo' Jude, is she? Well they's some other folks around here
thinks she's their Jude--what you goin' to do about it?"

All this time he held the small, dignified atom of humanity in a
merciless grip that made Little Buck ridiculous before his beloved, and
fired his childish soul to a very ecstasy of helpless rage.

"I'll--kill--you when I git to be a man!" the child gasped, between tears
and terror. "I'll thest kill you--and I'll wed Jude. You turn me
a-loose--that's what you do."

Blatch laughed tauntingly and raised the little fellow high in air.

"Ef I was to turn you a-loose now hit'd bust ye," he drawled.

"I don't keer. I----"

Around the corner of the cabin drifted Nicodemus, the wooden-legged
rooster, stumping gravely with his dot-and-carry-one gait.

"Lord, Nancy, thar comes the one patient ye ever cured!" chuckled old
Jephthah. "I don't wonder yo're proud enough of him to roof him and
affectionate him for the balance of his life."

"I reckon you'd do the same, ef so be ye should ever cure one," snapped
Nancy, rising instantly to the bait, and turning her back o