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