aken my word he'd be living yet!"

"But you-all know what trouble killing that sheriff made fo' Baldy!"
said Yancy. "He told me often he regretted it mo' than anything he'd
ever done. He said it was most aggravatin' having to always lug a gun
wherever he went. And what with being suspicious of strangers when he
wa'n't suspicious by nature, he reckoned in time it would just naturally
wear him out."

"He stood it until he was risin' eighty," said Crenshaw.

"His, father lived to be ninety, John, and as spry an old gentleman as
a body'd wish to see. I don't uphold no man for committing murder, but
I do consider the sheriff should have waited on Baldy to get mo'
reasonable, like he'd done in time if they'd just let him alone--but
no, sir, he reckoned the law wa'n't no respecter of persons. He was a
fine-appearin' man, that sheriff, and just elected to office. I remember
we had to leave off the tail-gate to my cart to accommodate him. Yes,
sir, they pretty near pestered Baldy into his grave--and seein' that
pore old fellow pottering around year after year always toting a gun was
the patheticest sight I most ever seen, and I made up my mind then if
it ever seemed necessary for me to kill a man, I'd leave the county or
maybe the state," concluded the squire.

"Don't you reckon it would be some better to leave the state afo' you.
done the killing?" suggested Yancy.

"Well, a man might. I don't know but what he'd be justified in getting
shut of his troubles like that."

When Betty Malroy rode away from Squire Balaam's Murrell galloped
after her. Presently she heard the beat of his horse's hoofs as he came
pounding along the sandy road and glanced back over her shoulder. With
an exclamation of displeasure she reined in her horse. She had not
wished to ride to the Barony with him, yet she had no desire to treat
him with discourtesy, especially as the Ferrises were disposed to like
him. Murrell quickly gained a place at her side.

"I suppose Ferris is at the Barony?" he said, drawing his horse down to
a walk.

"I believe he is," said Betty with a curt little air.

"May I ride with you?" he gave her a swift glance. She nodded
indifferently and would have urged her horse into a gallop again, but
he made a gesture of protest. "Don't--or I shall think you are still
running away from me," he said with a short laugh.

"Were you at the trial?" she asked. "I am glad they didn't get Hannibal
away from Yancy."

"Oh, Yancy will