way to turn it all over to her husband when she
marries, and step out of here a beggar, unless--"

"It isn't right, John! I haven't had pay for my ability! Why, the place
would have gone down to nothing with any management but mine!"

"If she were to die, you'd inherit?"

Ware laughed harshly.

"She looks like dying, doesn't she?"

"Listen to me, Tom. I'll take her away, and Belle Plain is yours--land,
stock and niggers!" said Murrell quietly.

Ware shifted and twisted in his seat.

"It can't be done. I can advise and urge: but I can't command. She's got
her friends, those people back yonder in North Carolina, and if I made
things uncomfortable for her here she'd go to them and I couldn't
stop her. You don't seem to get it through your head that she's got no
earthly use for you!"

Murrell favored him with a contemptuous glance.

"You're like every one else! Certain things you'll do, and certain other
things you won't even try to do--your conscience or your fear gets in
your way."

"Call it what you like."

"I offer to take the girl off your hands; when I quit the country she
shall go with me--"

"And I'd be left here to explain what had become of her!" cried Ware, in
a panic.

"You won't have anything to explain. She'll have disappeared, that will
be all you'll know," said Murrell quietly.

"She'll never marry you."

"Don't you be too sure of that. She may be glad enough to in the end."

"Oh, you think you are a hell of a fellow with women! Well, maybe you
are with one sort--but what do you know about her kind?" jeered the
planter.

Murrell's brow darkened.

"I'll manage her," he said briefly.

"You were of some account until this took hold of you," complained Ware.

"What do you say? One would hardly think I was offering to make you a
present of the best plantation in west Tennessee!" said Murrell.

Ware seemed to suck in hope through his shut teeth.

"I don't want to know anything about this, you are going to swamp
yourself yet--you're fixing to get yourself strung up--yes, by thunder,
that'll be your finish!"

"Do you want the land and the niggers? I reckon you'll have to take them
whether you want them or not, for I'm going to have the girl."

CHAPTER XVII. BOB YANCY FINDS HIMSELF

Mr. Yancy awoke from a long dreamless sleep; heavy-lidded, his eyes slid
open. For a moment he struggled with the odds and ends of memory, then
he recalled the fight at the tavern, the sudden murd