eater 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