s' do it. You've got the old dead-game Conway
breedin' in yo' bones an' you've got the brains, too." He lowered his
voice: "It's only for a little while--jes' a year or so--it'll give
you a nice little home to live in while you brace up an' pull out of
debt an' redeem yo' farm. Here--it is only for a year or so--sign
this--givin' you a home, an' start all over in life--sign it right
there, only for a little while--a chance to git on yo' feet--."

Conway scarcely knew how it happened that he signed--for Jud quickly
changed the subject.

After a while Jud arose to go. As he did so, Lily, the little
daughter, came out, and putting her arms around her father's neck,
kissed him and said:

"Papa--luncheon is served, and oh, do come on! Mammy and Helen and I
are so hungry."

Mammy Maria had followed her and stood deferentially behind the
chair. And as Jud went away he thought he saw in the old woman's
eyes, as she watched him, a trace of that fine scorn bred of
generations of gentleness, but which whiskey had destroyed in the
master.

CHAPTER V

THE FLY CATCHER CAUGHT

As Jud went out of the dilapidated gate at Millwood, he chuckled to
himself. He had, indeed, accomplished something. He had gained a
decided advance in the labor circles of the mill. He had broken into
the heretofore overpowering prejudice the better class had against
the mill, for he held in his possession the paper wherein an
aristocrat had signed his two daughters into it. Wouldn't Richard
Travis chuckle with him?

In the South social standing is everything.

To have the mill represented by a first family--even if brought to
poverty through drunkenness--was an entering wedge.

His next job was easier. A mile farther on, the poor lands of the
mountain side began. Up on the slope was a cabin, in the poorest and
rockiest portion of it, around the door of which half a dozen cracker
children stared at Jud with unfeigned interest as he rode up.

"Light an' look at yer saddle"--came from a typical Hillite within,
as Jud stopped.

Jud promptly complied--alighted and looked at his saddle.

A cur--which, despite his breeding, is always a keen detective of
character--followed him, barking at his heels.

This one knew Jud as instinctively and as accurately as he knew a
fresh bone from a rank one--by smell. He was also a judge of other
dogs and, catching sight of Bonaparte, his anger suddenly fled and he
with it.

"Won't you set down an' res'