in
his every movement, suspicion breeding. When Joe stepped out from his
thicket boldly, to confront him, the ex-slave-dealer fell back,
frightened.

"Hello, sir," was Joe's laconic greeting.

"Joe Lorey!" exclaimed Holton.

"That's me," Joe boldly granted. He peered at him so closely that Holton
shrank away from him, involuntarily. "And you--why you're the man as gin
th' word that Frank Layson had warned th' revenooers of my still."

"I told ye for yer good," said Holton, clearly recognizing that his
position was unfortunate. "An' recollect you promised not to tell anyone
my name."

Joe nodded gravely. "While I believe ye told th' truth I'll keep my
word," he answered. "But I wants to tell you that I heered Frank Layson
deny it, hyar, to-night, an' it sounded like he war speakin' th' plain
truth. See hyar, sir, you nearly egged me on to doin' murder." He
reached forward and seized Holton by the shoulder roughly, with a grasp
so powerful that the old man, though he was of sturdy frame and mighty
muscle, knew that he was helpless in the grip. "Now look me in th' face.
Tell me as you vally your own life--war it truth or lies, you told me?"

"It war th' truth," said Holton, doggedly; "th' truth an' nothin' else."

Joe shook his head incredulously. "I'd like better proof nor your word,
stranger, for, some way, your voice it don't ring true, nor yer eye look
honest."

"I'll gin ye th' proof," said Holton desperately. "Ye know that I war
never near yer still. Layson told me it war in th' wall of a
ravine--Hangin' Rock Ravine--an' a big oak stood in front of it an' hid
the mouth o' th' cave. Thar, do ye believe me, now?"

Joe nodded, slowly, thoughtfully. "No man as lived up in th' mountings
would have told ye." He considered ponderously for a moment. "Yes, I
reckon that I'll have to take yer word. 'T was him as done it."

"Of course it war," said Holton, and then, perhaps, a bit too eagerly:
"an' you'll make him pay for it?"

"Yes," said Joe, "but I've another score to settle, first, another man
to find--Lem Lindsay."

Holton was plainly startled, although Joe could not guess just why he
should be. "Lem Lindsay!" he exclaimed.

"Yes; the man as murdered my father. I've had word of him, at last. I've
heard as how he war seen, years ago, in New Orleans--he war a
nigger-trader, then--an' that he's come up in th' bluegrass country,
since, like enough under another name." He looked at Holton eagerly. "I
say, sir,