my Uncle Bob was--he ain't afraid of
nothing! He totes them pistols of his--loaded--if you notice good you
can see where they bulge out his coat!" Hannibal's eyes, very round and
big, looked up into hers.

"Is he as poor as he seems, Hannibal?" inquired Betty.

"He never has no money, Miss Betty, but I don't reckon he's what a body
would call pore."

It might have baffled a far more mature intelligence than Hannibal's to
comprehend those peculiar processes by which the judge sustained himself
and his intimate fellowship with adversity--that it was his magnificence
of mind which made the squalor of his daily life seem merely a passing
phase--but the boy had managed to point a delicate distinction, and
Betty grasped something of the hope and faith which never quite died out
in Slocum Price's indomitable breast.

"But you always have enough to eat, dear?" she questioned anxiously.
Hannibal promptly reassured her on this point. "You wouldn't let me
think anything that was not true, Hannibal--you are quite sure you have
never been hungry?"

"Never, Miss Betty; honest!"

Betty gave a sigh of relief. She had been reproaching herself for her
neglect of the child; she had meant to do so much for him and had done
nothing! Now it was too late for her personally to interest herself in
his behalf, yet before she left for the East she would provide for him.
If she had felt it was possible to trust the judge she would have
made him her agent, but even in his best aspect he seemed a dubious
dependence. Tom, for quite different reasons, was equally out of the
question. She thought of Mr. Mahaffy.

"What kind of a man is Mr. Mahaffy, Hannibal?"

"He's an awful nice man, Miss Betty, only he never lets on; a body's got
to find it out for his own self--he ain't like the judge."

"Does he--drink, too, Hannibal?" questioned Betty.

"Oh, yes; when he can get the licker, he does." It was evident that
Hannibal was cheerfully tolerant of this weakness on the part of the
austere Mahaffy. By this time Betty was ready to weep over the child,
with his knowledge of shabby vice, and his fresh young faith in those
old tatterdemalions.

"But, no matter what they do, they are very, very kind to you?" she
continued quite tremulously.

"Yes, ma'am--why, Miss Betty, they're lovely men!"

"And do you ever hear the things spoken of you learned about at Mrs.
Ferris' Sunday-school?"

"When the judge is drunk he talks a heap about 'em. It's beau