ded
between two purposes: one was to seize Price by the coat tails and drag
him back into the crowd; the other was to kick him, and himself fly that
spot. This singular impulse sprang from the fact that he firmly believed
his friend's appearance was sufficient to blast the boy's chances in
every quarter; nor did he think any better of himself.

Betty looked at the judge rather inquiringly.

"I am glad he has found friends," she said slowly. She wanted to believe
that judge Slocum Price was somehow better than he looked, which should
have been easy, since it was incredible that he could have been worse.

"He has indeed found friends," said the judge with mellow unction, and
swelling visibly. These prosperous appearing people should be of use
to him, God willing--he made a sweeping gesture. "I have assumed the
responsibility of his future--he is my care."

Now Betty caught sight of Carrington and bowed. Occupied with Hannibal
and the judge, she had been unaware of his presence. Carrington stepped
forward.

"Have you met Mr. Norton, and my brother, Mr. Carrington?" she asked.

The two young men shook hands, and Ware improved the opportunity to
inspect the new-comer. But as his glance wandered over him, it took in
more than Carrington, for it included the fine figure and swarthy face
of Captain Murrell, who, with his eyes fixed on Betty, was thrusting his
eager way through the crowd.

Murrell had presented himself at Belle Plain the day before. For upward
of a year, Ware had enjoyed great peace of mind as a direct result of
his absence from west Tennessee, and when he thought of him at all he
had invariably put a period to his meditations with, "I hope to hell he
catches it wherever he is!" It had really seemed a pernicious thing to
him that no one had shown sufficient public spirit to knock the captain
on the head, and that this had not been done, utterly destroyed his
faith in the good intentions of Providence.

More than this, Betty had spoken of the captain in no uncertain terms.
He was not to repeat that visit. Tom must make that point clear to him.
Tom might entertain him if he liked at his office, but the doors of
Belle Plain were closed against Captain Murrell; he was not to set his
foot inside of them.

As Murrell approached, the hot color surged into Betty's face. As for
Hannibal, he had gone white to the lips, and his small hand clutched
hers desperately; he was remembering all the terror of that hot da