"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,